


Shadows that follow you

by RivanWarrioress



Series: Arrow Wolf (Teen Wolf and Arrow Crossover stories) by Rivan Warrioress [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Arrow Family, Arrow Wolf, BAMF Derek, BAMF Stiles, Crossover, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Felicity and Stiles are Siblings, Gen, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, Not Season/Series 02 Arrow Compliant, Not Season/Series 03 Teen Wolf Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pack Cuddles, Pack Feels, Post Seaon 1 Arrow, Post Seaon 2 Teen Wolf, Puppy Piles, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out, Stilinski Family Feels, Team Arrow, Torture, Wolf Pack, Worried Pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-01-06 02:23:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 91,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RivanWarrioress/pseuds/RivanWarrioress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sick of Stiles' lying about what he's been upto, and worried about him in the aftermath of being attacked after the lacrosse championship, Sheriff Stilinski sends Stiles go and spend the summer with his sister Felicity in Starling City.  Oliver and Diggle are very curious about Felicity's baby brother, and want to help him....but then Stiles' past in Beacon Hills folows him to Starling City.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.  I claim no ownership of etiher Teen Wolf or Arrow...If i did Olicity and Sterek would already be canon.**

 

 

Felicity was busily working on rewiring her computer cables in the Vigilante’s underground lair when her phone began to ring.  She frowned, not expecting any phone calls.  The only people who would call her at this time of night were Oliver and Diggle...who were both in the basement with her, training together.  She set down the wires and fished her phone out of her pocket, smiling when she saw the caller ID on the screen.  It was her step-father...although John was more her father than her real, biological father ever had been to her.  She quickly answered it, hoping that the noise from the men training wouldn’t carry down the phone.  John was, after all, a Sherriff.  He would know what fighting sounded like.

 

“Hey John,” she beamed down the phone, “How are things down south?”

 

“Hi Felicity things are...well, they aren’t great if I’m honest.”

 

Felicity’s face fell, and her voice thickened, “Why...what’s wrong...are you ok...is Stiles?”  She shot a glance at Oliver and Diggle, who had stopped fighting the moment they noticed the concern in her voice, and Oliver was giving her a worried look.

 

“I...I don’t know...Would...I know you’re busy with work and everything...but do you think you could have him there with you while he’s off school.  I just think he needs to get out of town for a bit.”

 

“Has anything happened?  He hasn’t said anything in his emails?”

 

“I...I don’t know what to do, Felicity.  I try to get him to talk, and he just lies and stonewalls me.  We used to be close but this whole year...he’d been acting weird...even for him.”

 

“It’s okay John...I mean, I’m not going to be able to get much...if any...time off work...you know how my supervisor is, otherwise I’d come down...but if you think he needs it, then yeah, of course Stiles can come and visit.”

 

“Thank you Felicity...this means a lot” Johns sighed in relief down the phone.  Felicity nodded, even though she knew he couldn’t see her.

 

“You just look after yourself, alright, and I’ll take care of Stiles.”

 

“Alright...I’ll contact you again once I break the news to him and organise flights.”

 

“Okay, John...I’ll talk to you then, bye,” Felicity smiled sadly.

 

“See you, Felicity.” John farewelled, before hanging up.  Felicity put her phone on the table in front of her and sighed.

 

“Something wrong, Felicity?” Oliver asked.  Felicity leaned forward, resting her elbows on the bench and resting her forehead on the heels of her hands.

 

“Heads up...I’m not going to be available for much back up for the next few weeks,” she told them.

 

“Why is that?” Diggle asked. 

 

“My little brother is coming to stay with me for his summer holidays.  I’m going to be bailing on him to go to work during the day; I can’t leave him alone at nights as well.”

 

“I didn’t know you had a little brother,” Oliver commented. 

 

Felicity gave a dry laugh, “There are a whole lot of things about me you don’t know, Oliver.  I am a closed book as far as you are concerned.”

 

Diggle snorted in amusement and Felicity gave him a smile, before she sighed, feeling bad for teasing Oliver like that.

 

“Sorry,” she apologised, “it’s just that my family...it’s kind of complicated...although going from what I know about present company it isn’t that strange...alright, fine, but I’m only going to say this once, and if I cry you do not mention it ever again, promise?”

 

Oliver looked at Diggle for a moment, before they looked at her, both nodding.

 

“Of course,” Oliver put in.  Felicity sighed and walked across the room to her chair, the two men following her, grabbing their usual seats and dragging them to where they could face her.  Felicity exhaled.

 

“Okay...starting in the beginning.  My Mom and Dad broke up when I was one.  It was an amicable split, and I stayed with my dad every second weekend up until he died when I was almost five.  When I was two, my mom met John Stilinski, and she fell in love with him.  They got married when I was seven.  I don’t remember a time when John wasn’t there...he was more my dad than my biological dad was...and he was absolutely devoted to my mom.  I always said to myself that when I grew up and got married, I wanted my husband to love me just like John loved my mom...anyway... just after I turned eight I found out I was going to get a little half brother or sister, and six months later my mom had Stiles...my adorable, and very tiny at the time, even though the last time I saw him he was taller than me not that it’s hard, baby brother.  Anyway, time passed, and Stiles grew into this adorable little boy.  He got diagnosed with ADHD, but mom and John didn’t care, even when Stiles would tire us all out.  He had so much energy as a kid...and he babbles like I do.  We used to be the only ones who understood each other once we got going.  That...that was when everything fell apart,” Felicity broke off and sniffed, feeling her throat closing up with emotion, just as it always did when it came to talking about this part of her life.  She startled when she felt a large hand on her shoulder, just resting there reassuringly, and she looked up at Oliver, who gave her a gentle smile.

 

“Take your time,” he told her.  Felicity nodded, sucking in air before she continued on.

 

“When Stiles was six, and I was fourteen my mom got diagnosed with cancer.  John was busy with work, trying to pay for the medical bills, so Stiles and I looked after mom.  Stiles grew up so much in those first few months...we both did.  My mom lasted eighteen months after the diagnosis before she died.” Felicity sniffed and took off her glasses to she could wipe her eyes with her sleeve.

 

“I’m sorry,” Diggle told her. 

 

Felicity nodded, “Thanks...I appreciate it.”

Oliver gave her a concerned look, and tightened his grip slightly on her shoulder, before he let his arm drop.  Felicity cleared her throat.

 

“John...John was devastated by loosing mom...we all were.  Stiles was alone with her in the hospital when it happened.  John had gone to the cafeteria, and when he came back they had called it.  Stiles started having panic attacks, like...all of the time.  Most nights he slept with me in my room just so we could hold onto one another.  John stared drinking more, before you ask no, he was never abusive to either of us...not that I was aware of, and threw himself into work.  He got elected Sherriff the next year.  We muddled on the best we could...we still had each other anyway, and we were better off than some, so I won’t ever complain that those first few years after mom died were bad.”

 

“Sounds rough,” Diggle commented.

 

“What do you mean, compared with others?”  Oliver asked curiously, “Sounds like you guys had it pretty bad.”

 

“My best friend in high school...she had it way worse.  Three weeks before we graduated her house caught fire.  She lost twelve members of her family.  All that was left was her younger brother and her uncle, who was badly burned and is now in a catatonic state in hospital.  She lost both her parents...two brothers...two sisters, an uncle, two aunts, and three cousins.  Everything was destroyed in that fire.  All she and her brother had were the clothes on their backs and what they had in their school lockers...trust me, I would rather be dead than go through what Laura and Derek went through.”

 

Oliver and Diggle both exhaled and shuddered at the prospect of losing so much at the tender age of 18.

 

“What happened to them?” Oliver asked curiously, already trying to think of a way to offer assistance to the pair.  Felicity’s friend would only be about 24, and he didn’t know how old the boy was.

 

“They moved to New York, and Laura went to college there while Derek finished high school.  I saw them sometimes when Laura and I were on breaks from classes.  Laura was mauled to death by a mountain lion almost a year ago...I don’t know where Derek is...the last time I spoke to him was the day he told me that Laura was dead.  Anyway...we are so of topic.  I left Beacon Hills when I graduated and headed off to College.  I used to head back home every summer, but since I started working at Queen Consolidated I haven’t had the opportunity.  I like to let the people with kids take school vacation times, so it’s been two years since I’ve seen John and Stiles...even though Stiles emails at least once a week and John tries to call once a month to catch up...or to check in on me to make sure I haven’t been killed in a earthquake...or to ask me if Stiles can come and spend the summer with me.”

 

“Did John say why he needed you to look after your brother?’ Diggle asked.  Felicity shook her head.

 

“No, but he sounded...I don’t know...stressed.  From the last few phone calls I’ve had from him I know things haven’t been right with Stiles all year, but I don’t know what.  Even in his emails to me Stiles has been vague on details...I guess I’ll have to talk with him about it when he gets here.   I am not hacking his computer though...I don’t want to know what my teenaged brother looks up...I don’t want that kind of knowledge.”

 

Oliver and Diggle both laughed at the look of horror on Felicity’s face at the prospect of going through Stiles’ browser history.  They both had been teenage boys once too, and they had little doubt at what Felicity would find.

 

She was better off not knowing,

 

TW/A

 

Stiles closed his eyes as he felt the plane touchdown on the runway of Starling City’s airport, wishing with all his might that he was back in Beacon Hills with the rest of the pack.  He still couldn’t believe that his father had sent him to spend the summer with his older half sister.  Sure, things had been tense between them ever since the thing at the Jungle, and Matt’s raid on the police station, but Stiles hadn’t seen the punishment coming.

 

Slowly Stiles grabbed his back pack and joining the throng of people getting off the plane.  It didn’t take long, considering that since the earthquake that levelled a good half of the Glades Starling City hadn’t been a booming tourist location.  Stiles was actually surprised that his dad had sent him here, given that the city was considered to be highly dangerous.  Of course, Felicity was Stiles’ only living relative other than his dad, so the Sherriff had limited options, but still Stiles had been surprised. 

 

Upon reflection it had made Stiles realise how much he had hurt his father with his actions, and with the endless lies, and guilt had bubbled up within him, swallowing him whole.

 

More than anything Stiles wished he was in Beacon Hills, so he could hug his father tightly, just like he had the night of the lacrosse game, after Gerard Argent had finally let him go, and beg for forgiveness.

 

Despite everything, however, Stiles couldn’t help but smile when he saw his sister waiting for him at the arrivals gate, almost jumping up and down in excitement.  His smile only grew when she lunged at him, pulling him into a tight embrace.

 

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re here...I mean, I was surprised when your dad called me asking if it was okay if you came and spent your summer with me, given everything that’s been happening here lately with the earthquake and everything, but now you’re here, and it’s so good to see you...and you’re a lot taller than I remembered...of course, that was bound to happen since it’s been two years and you’re a teenage boy, and that’s what they do best...grow, I mean.”

 

Stiles was full on grinning now.  Felicity could ramble on just as much as he could.  When they were younger, before Felicity moved out to go to college, they would babble away at one another so quickly that no-one else could understand what they were saying.

 

“What happened, Stiles...you look like you got hit by a truck...not that I would know what that looks like...actually it looks like you were beaten up by somebody...and I wouldn’t know anything about that either.  John wouldn’t tell me over the phone...just that you needed to get away for a bit...please tell me you and Scott haven’t been picking fights.”

 

“We haven’t,” Stiles said, “It was a lacrosse thing...pretty awesome actually.  The other team took exception to me scoring the winning goal and cornered me on my own after the game...no big deal.”

 

“You...wow...you said in your last email that you weren’t expecting to play during an actual game any time soon.  Guess the Coach finally grew a brain and saw how awesome you are.”

 

“Something like that.”

 

“Right, well...let’s go get your stuff...the sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can ditch your stuff back at my place and I can take you to the kick ass Chinese restraint that I found.” Felicity beamed, taking Stiles’ arm and leading him to the baggage claim area, where they picked up Stiles’ large duffle bag.

 

“So, how’s the jeep running,” Felicity asked as she and Stiles reached her car.  Stiles flinched, remembering the damage inflicted to his beloved jeep when he had hit Jackson with it.

 

“It’s okay...I kind of scratched it a few weeks ago, but other than that it works.” He admitted.  Felicity frowned.

 

‘Are you okay?” she asked, concern seeping into her voice, “You don’t seem your usual chipper self.”

 

“Did dad say anything to you about why he was sending me here?” he asked as Felicity turned to face him.

 

“Just that he thought that you needed to get out of town for a bit...and after seeing you, I’m inclined to believe him.  You look almost as bad now as you did back when mom died...Oh, god, John’s not sick, is he?”

 

Stiles shook his head, “Not that I know of, except for the ongoing cholesterol issue, which I’m helping him with...and he’s fighting me over.  Bacon is the food of the devil.”

 

Felicity couldn’t help but laugh, remembering her own battles with John about his diet, both before she left Beacon Hills and when she used to come back for the summer during her college years.

 

“Are you having panic attacks again?” Felicity asked.  Stiles tensed in his seat, his gaze going distant.  It was a look eerily familiar to Felicity...Oliver would look similar when he was flashing back to his time on the island.

 

“Stiles?” she prompted softly, wanting to reach out to him, but knowing that she shouldn’t.  Diggle had warned her never to touch him or Oliver when they were having flashbacks, since they could lash out.  Stiles wasn’t a trained fighter, but Felicity didn’t want to scare him.  He had obviously been in a fight after all.

 

Stiles swallowed, and nodded, absentmindedly touching his split lip “a bit,” he admitted.  Felicity frowned and reached over, pulling Stiles into an awkward sideways hug.

 

“Dad made me go to a councillor,” Stiles added.  Felicity kissed the top of his head.

 

“You’ll be okay, Stiles...They aren’t going to get you...the ones who did this to you...I won’t let them.  Does John know who did it?”

 

“Just that it was guys from the other team...I don’t know who it was, they were wearing masks, and they’d changed out of their lacrosse gear.”

 

“It’s okay; Stiles...John will find them.”

 

“No...I don’t want him too.  It...It’s nothing, alright.  It was just some stupid school rivalry thing...Dad doesn’t need to be involved.” Stiles snapped, pulling away from Felicity.  Felicity sat straight in her seat, surprised by Stiles’ outburst.

 

“Stiles...you’re having panic attacks...this is obviously more than just being jumped by some jocks.  Besides, John got involved the moment you were.  He’s the Sheriff, you know.”

 

“Felicity...I don’t know if you remember this, but using ‘my dad is the Sheriff’ stopped working as a bully deterrent in the fourth grade.  I...I just want to move on and get over this.”

 

“Ok,” Felicity sighed, starting her car and driving out of the parking bay.  Stiles was quiet as they drove through the city, until he saw the first signs of the earthquake.

 

“Wow...I saw pictures and footage on the news, but I didn’t expect it to be this bad,” he said in a soft voice, “where’s your house again.”

 

“I’m a few blocks from the Glades,” she told him, “no damage except for a cracked mug that fell off a table during the quake.”

 

It was Stiles’ turn to shoot a concerned look at Felicity, who forced a reassuring smile on her face.

 

“It’s okay...better than it was just after the quake.  Just...when you’re at home, don’t leave the door or the windows unlocked.  There’s been a lot of looting going on...I would consider taking you to work with me...but A, you would be bored out of your brain, and B, if you weren’t bored, I hate to think what sort of trouble you would be getting us both into.”

 

Stiles snorted, “Both are valid points,” he agreed as Felicity arrived at her apartment building and drove into the underground car park.  She parked in her assigned space, and they got out, Stiles gathering his duffle bag and his back pack u, before they headed up to Felicity’s apartment.  Stiles had never been to Starling city before, so he didn’t know what to expect when Felicity opened up the door to her apartment and switched off the alarm, before closing and locking the door again securely once they were both inside.

 

“You weren’t kidding about the security thing, were you?” he asked. 

 

Felicity shook her head, “This isn’t Beacon Hills, Stiles...this is the city...and it’s as dangerous now as it’s ever been.”

 

“Even with that arrow guy running around?” Stiles asked.  He had heard about the vigilante of Starling City...there was a lot of chatter on the internet about him.  People often debated whether he was doing god or evil.  Stiles personally thought that the archer had a good thing going.  Sure, he killed people, but he had also played a role in exposing the corruption that apparently was everywhere in Starling City...and Stiles was sure that the people that were killed by the vigilante must have been doing something wrong in order to attract the guys attention.  At the same time, though, Stiles kept that opinion to himself.  What the vigilante did seemed dangerously close to what the Argents did, and Stiles didn’t condone the hunter lifestyle...especially now that he had experienced the so called ‘hospitality’ of Gerard Argent.    

 

“Crime rates have dropped since he’s been active, considerably,” Felicity told him, “but since the earthquake things have been a little tense, and like I said, there’s been a lot of looting going on.  Just...be careful, okay?”

 

Stiles nodded, and Felicity smiled in relief, visibly relaxing.               

 

“Great, now, are you hungry...there’s this great Chinese place that I want to take you to.”

 

Stiles snorted, setting his bags down carefully in a corner.

 

“Seriously...I am always hungry...growing teenage boy here...when can we leave.”

 

Felicity laughed and put her hands on Stiles’ shoulders, steering him back out of the apartment.

 

“Come on, Stiles...let’s go and get some dinner.”


	2. Chapter 2

“So how is the little brother sitting going?” Diggle asked Felicity from the doorway to her office.  Felicity, who hadn’t seen him come in, jumped.

 

“God, Diggle...you’re just as bad as Oliver,” she complained, “Between the two of you I am going to end up having a heart attack by the time I’m 30.  Where is Oliver anyway?”

 

“He’s on his way down, he and Walter just had to finish up a meeting with the department heads.”

 

“Sounds like fun,” Felicity snorted, and Diggle laughed.

 

“Riveting...better him then me.”

 

“Thanks for the support, Diggle,” Oliver teased walking into Felicity’s office and closing the door.  Felicity noticed the unspoken signal and quickly switched the video feed in her office off; replacing it with a tape they had recorded just after Walter had promoted Felicity, by extension giving her the larger, more private, office.  The recording was of the three of them making small talk, all Queen Consolidated business, with nothing relating to the vigilante, or even that they knew each other anymore than they should.  Felicity was just glad that there wasn’t much variation on what she wore to work each day.  It was always fairly similar, a white shirt with a black skirt or a black pair of pants.  In the video you could only see the back of her shirt anyway, so it didn’t matter so much wether she was wearing a skirt or pants.

 

“How have you been?” Oliver asked Felicity, “How’s your brother going?”

 

Felicity rolled her eyes, “Stiles is fine, thanks for asking...I can handle my brother just great.  You just want him gone so that you can have me back working late”

 

“He has only been here two days,” Diggle reminded Oliver, who shrugged sheepishly.

 

“Really?  Is that all?  Hmm...that’s dragged.  We should go out together.  You me, your brother, Diggle...we could go to the diner”

 

“And how would I explain to my brother how I know you...I know I told you he has ADHD, but he’s still very smart...like...super smart.”

 

“Smarter than you?” Diggle asked.  Felicity pushed her glasses up her nose slightly.

 

“Not as far as computers go, even though he is better than most kids his age, but in other areas, yes.”

 

“Like what?” Oliver asked curiously.

 

 Felicity shrugged, “To be honest I have no idea...trust me; he focuses on the strangest stuff.  Last year he wrote a paper on the history of male circumcision...for economics class...at least, that was the story John told me.”

 

Oliver and Diggle both laughed hard at the comment, “I have got to meet this kid, he sounds great.” Oliver chuckled, grinning broadly.

 

“No hooking him up with your sister...He’s only just turned sixteen...Thea’s two and a half years older than him.” Felicity told him, her tone turning protective.  Oliver held up his hands defensively, recognising the behaviour of an older sibling.

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it...beside, I wouldn’t have a chance anyway, Roy and Thea have been pretty close since the earthquake.”

 

“I think they’re cute together,” Felicity told the two men, going back to her computers and typing away on her keyboards

 

“Seriously...Thea and Roy?” Oliver asked her.  Felicity rolled her eyes.

 

“Yes, Thea and Roy.  I mean, he’s obviously devoted to her, and he’s helped her through all of the crap of the last six months or so...they obviously mean a lot to one another.  They’re good for one another...one day you’ll see it.  You just can’t see it now because you’re all protective big brother over Thea...although I think the whole protective thing is actually more just a brother thing, because Stiles once kicked a boyfriend of mine in the balls when he was, like, eight...of course, that was after they guy in question dumped me because I wouldn’t sleep with him, but there you go.”

 

Oliver coughed; “Seriously?” he asked...not that he thought Stiles had done the wrong thing.  When Stiles was eight, Felicity would have only been sixteen or seventeen.  If it had been Thea Oliver would have done a lot more than knee the guy in question in the balls.

 

“Funnily enough Stiles didn’t get into trouble for it from John.” Felicity said with a smile.

 

“Who was this guy?” Diggle asked.  Felicity resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

 

“Relax, the last I heard he had just gone back into prison for a nice long stint for getting busted dealing drugs in LA,” she told the,  Diggle and Oliver both relaxed knowing that the man who had hurt Felicity was behind bars, but Felicity wasn’t paying attention, she was focused on the computer screen in front of her.

 

“So...you and Stiles...the diner...tonight?’ Oliver prompted after a short pause, “You guys in?”

 

“Alright,” Felicity nodded, nerves building within her at the thought of Stiles meeting Oliver and Diggle.  She hoped he liked them...and they liked him.  Stiles was going to be around for a while yet, and already Felicity had begun to wonder if having someone older to look up to, a male role model, would be good for Stiles while he was away from his dad.  Stiles had always been very open with Felicity, but ever since he had arrived in Starling city, he had been stonewalling her, chatting happily, but at the same time obviously hiding something, and frankly it was beginning to worry her.  Maybe being around Oliver and Diggle would help.  They were both good guys, despite the image Oliver put out for the press, and Felicity trusted them both more than any other guy she knew...with the exception of John and perhaps Walter

 

“Great...we’ll meet you there at eight...does that suit everybody?” Oliver asked.  Felicity and Diggle both nodded.

 

“I’ll tell Carly that we’re planning on coming,” Diggle offered pulling out his phone.  Oliver smiled and Felicity.

 

“We’ll see you both then.”

 

“Alright,” Felicity nodded, flicking the cameras in the office back to normal as the two men got up and left the room, before she exhaled nervously, her heart rapidly beating in her chest.

 

“Please let this go well.” She said to the computer in front of her.

 

TW/A

 

Stiles switched of Felicity’s TV and carefully put the DVD of his current favourite movie, The Avengers, back in its rightful spot in her DVD shelf.  Years of experience told Stiles that Felicity was very particular about how her things were arranged, so he had been very careful to note where the DVD needed to go.

 

The DVD put away, Stiles slumped back down on the couch which was also serving as his bed for the foreseeable future.  He had only been in Starling City for two days, and he was bored out of his mind already.  Sure, he had brought his laptop with him, and he had daily skype sessions with Scott, but Stiles wasn’t game to bring up any of his favourite websites.  His dad knew very little about computers, but Stiles knew that Felicity could very easily hack his computer...and he had a lot of password encrypted stuff on his computer.  Stiles didn’t really want his sister to find the database he was building about the supernatural stuff that he and the rest of the pack had encountered...or the websites he went to in order to watch porn. 

 

Considering what Felicity had told him, going out for a walk was out of the question.  Sure, Stiles could go out in broad daylight, but he still had no idea what to do.  He didn’t know Starling city, and most of the tourist attractions were closed because of the earthquake...not that the city had many to begin with...Starling city was more of a business and industry centre, rather than a hot tourist location.

 

A glance at the clock revealed that it was getting late.  Felicity would be home in an hour or so, but she had declined Stiles’ offer of cooking dinner, telling him that she didn’t want him to have to worry about cooking dinner while he was on vacation.  Stiles had reluctantly agreed, although he would have appreciated the distraction from his boredom.

 

Heaving out a sigh, Stiles rolled off the couch and climbed to his feet, staggering over to Felicity’s bookcase.  He carefully traced his finger over the spine of the books, recognizing many of them from Felicity’s bedroom before she moved out.  Felicity had been the one to introduce him to comic books, and to Science fiction.  Stiles fondly remembered the long nights when he would curl up in Felicity’s bed, and she read The Hobbit, and then The Lord of the Rings, to him.  That had been when his mother was sick, and it was Stiles’ fondest memory of that period of his life. 

 

Instead of the novels, however, Stiles’ gaze was drawn to the photo albums stored in the bookshelf.  He recognised them too.  There were two that were identical duplicates of ones from home, photos from Felicity and Stiles’ childhood up until their mother died.  Felicity had spent days going through each album, scanning each photo before putting them on disk and printing them all out again for her own albums, just so both she and Stiles would be able to look at the photos, even though she was away from home.

 

Other albums were different...newer, and Stiles picked up a couple, taking them back to the couch and opened one up, flicking through.  There were photos from Felcity’s college days , and a few trips she went on with her college friends, and Stiles quickly lost interest in them (except for a few where Felicity was clearly drunk....he was certain that his dad didn’t know about those.)  After taking a few photos on his phone for blackmail purposes, Stiles set the college album aside, and picked up the next one.  This one was thicker, and Stiles swallowed reflexively when he opened it, recognizing it as photos from Beacon Hills dating from after his mother’s death.  Felicity got a digital camera for Christmas that year, and she had taken a lot of photos with it.  Stiles found it oddly ironic that despite working with computers and being an certified genius, Felicity always got her photos printed, preferring being able to look at albums, instead of looking at them on a screen.

 

The first photo in the book was of Claudia Stilinski’s gravestone, and Stiles swallowed reflexively, turning the page quickly.  He remembered those dark days vividly...days littered with panic attacks and sudden bouts of crying...days when he had no appetite, and even Scott couldn’t cheer him up...although it hadn’t been through any fault on Scott’s behalf.  Every day after school Scott would go to Stiles’ and spend time with him, chattering away about his day...or about whatever comic he had just read, or whatever games the boys were playing...trying to distract Stiles from his pain, ready with his inhaler if Stiles started to struggle to breath.  Stiles still had no idea what he would have done if Scott hadn’t been there for him in those months following his mother’s death.  It was one of the reasons that Stiles had stayed at Scott’s side throughout all the werewolf crap, even though it had put him in danger.    

 

Ever since then Felicity had always been very fond of Scott, having recognized how much Stiles relied on him, and how Scott had always been there of Stiles.  Stiles quirked an eyebrow at the album, looking at a photo of he and Scott, curled up together on Stiles’ bed, both obviously sound asleep.  According to the date in the caption Felicity had written, Stiles was eight, and Scott had just turned nine, and Stiles’ mother had been gone for four months.  Stiles smiled ruefully, before he continued looking through the album, noticing numerous photos of him, usually with Scott.

 

Another person who Stiles recognized in the album was Laura Hale...smiling and confident looking, as if she had the world at her feet, not even knowing that in a few short years her world would be turned upside down.   

 

Stiles was fairly certain that Derek remembered that their older sisters had been best friends...but the alpha werewolf had never said anything about it.  Stiles would be willing to bet that Laura’s murder was the sole reason for that...and considering everything that Derek had gone through, and the fact that they weren’t really friends, it wasn’t surprising.  Derek tended to keep personal things private.  

 

Stiles dimly remembered spending time with the Hales as a child, especially after his mother died.  Sometimes Laura and Felicity would arrange outings for their respective siblings, a picnic in the woods, or a trip to the ice skating ring, or to the movies.  Of the group, Stiles had been the youngest, while Derek had been one of the oldest, so they hadn’t interacted much...especially after Stiles convinced Felicity to let him bring Scott along.

 

A broad smile spread it’s way across Stiles’ face as he looked at the photos, noticing how, the further into the album he got, and how time progressed, the lingering pain in his family’s eyes seemed to become less keen, as if they were slowly putting their lives back together.  He paused when he saw a photo obviously taken at the Beacon Hills High School Lacrosse field just after a training session, featuring Felicity and a few of her friends, including Laura Hale, and some boys in Lacrosse gear...including a very young looking Derek Hale...wearing the number 24 jersey that Stiles now wore.  There was another photo, obviously taken on the same day, with Derek in the background, his back turned.  The name Hale was emblazoned across the back of the red vest in white writing, above the number 24, and it made Stiles snort in amusement.  Derek had been keeping quite a few things to himself.  The fact that Stiles wore the same number that Derek himself had once worn should have been mentioned by now...or at least, that’s what Stiles thought anyway.       

 

Stiles, however, stopped and froze as he spotted a photo towards the end of the book, staring at it with a sense of horror, all trace of prior amusement gone from his face.

 

He clearly remembered the occasion.  It had been Halloween, the year Felicity had been in her senior year of high school.  Halloween was one of Stiles’ favourite times of the year, and he had been hyped up all day, even before he got to eat any candy or chocolate.  Laura and Felicity had organized to take Laura’s siblings, Stiles and Scott trick or treating, since Stiles’ dad and Scott’s mom were both working.  Laura had already turned eighteen early that September, and Felicity was mature for her age, so none of the parents had been troubled by the offer.  Stiles had dressed up as Batman that year, and Scott had been Superman.  Felicity had (ironically in hindsight, considering that Stiles was fairly certain that she didn’t know about the Hales being werewolves) donned a red and white checked dress with a matching red cape as little red riding hood.

 

They had walked long and far that year, bringing in a good haul of candy and chocolates, which they split up evenly between themselves when they got back to Scott’s house, where they were greeted by Melissa, who had just got home.  Stiles didn’t remember much more of that night, but had brushed it off, although he was fairly certain he hadn’t gotten to bed under his own steam.

 

Here was proof that he certainly hadn’t.  Stiles stared in mortification at the photo of a teenaged Derek Hale...complete with vampire fangs, with a sound asleep Stiles cradled in his arms.  He swallowed as he read the short caption Felicity had added.

 

‘Nawww...Poor Stiles...or should I say, Batman.  After he practically fell asleep on Scott’s front porch we figured this was the best way to get him home... Derek even tucked him in for us. 31st October 2005’

 

 Stiles knew that Derek had been almost sixteen at the time, and Stiles himself had turned nine years old the previous June.  Derek looked different in the photo...less jaded and angry at the world, and Stiles felt pity well up within him, knowing that within seven months almost the entire Hale pack would be gone, leaving Laura an alpha at only 18, Derek the sole healthy beta, and Peter Hale widowed and childless, in a catatonic state in hospital with severe burns and the beginnings of insanity.

 

Tearing his gaze away from the photo of him and Derek, Stiles looked at the group shot that Felicity had obviously gotten someone else to take.  Felicity’s hands rested on Stiles and Scott’s shoulders, and Laura had an arm slung around Felicity’s shoulders, with the Hale Siblings around them.  Cora was the youngest of the Hales...Stiles remembered her from school, although she had been a year above him.  There were also another two boys, and another girl.  One of the boys was older than Derek, but younger than Laura, and the other boy and the girl were twins, aged between Derek and Cora.  Stiles wiped at his face, surprised to find tears on his cheeks.  It was difficult, looking at the young people in the photo, most of them, younger than he was, and knowing that they would be dead within a year of the photo being taken.

 

Seeing the faces, and how happy they all were, only made him hate Kate and Gerard Argent even more.  Gerard might not have been directly involved in the Hale fire, but he had been the one who had encouraged Kate to be ruthless.  He had been the one to create the monster that Kate had become in her desire to kill werewolves.

 

Stiles slowly kept going through the album, until he reached a photo taken on the day Felicity graduated, and there was a photo of Laura.  Stiles swallowed at the difference seven and a half months made.  Before Laura had looked bright, bubbly and confident.  At her graduation she looked pale, sick and exhausted, with deep dark shadows beneath her eyes and none of the energy she had once possessed.  She looked like a completely different person, and if it wasn’t for Felicity’s use of captions, then Stiles might have mistaken her for someone else.

 

Stiles swallowed as he felt his stomach roll at the memory of what Laura’s body had looked like in the grave that Derek had dug.  Stiles had begged his father not to mention Stiles’ involvement in the discovery of Laura’s body to Felicity, although he knew that she knew her high school best friend was dead...he had a feeling Derek might have been the one to tell her, because she had already known when Stiles’ dad had tried to break the news to her.

 

Flicking back through the book Stiles found the picture of him and Derek again, unable to tear his eyes away from it.  The younger Stiles in the photo looked very relaxed and comfortable in the teenaged Derek’s arms, and Stiles wondered if Derek knew of this photo’s existence, while at the same time Stiles was grateful that Scott wasn’t aware of its existence. 

 

Neither he nor Derek would ever hear the end of it if any of the other members of the pack found out about the photo.  Scott, Jackson and Isaac would laugh hysterically for days, Lydia and Allison would coo over how sweet it was and pinch Stile’s cheeks, and Peter...Stiles shuddered to think what HE would do...or say..  In the photo  Stiles had his head resting on Derek’s shoulder, nose pressed up against the werewolf’s  neck, while Derek held him close, cradling him like a baby.  Stiles looked tiny in Derek’s arms, at least two years younger than he was supposed to be.  Stiles had been small for his age up until he had a growth spurt when he was thirteen, and in the dark days following his mother’s death eating had become less of a priority for him, much to the distress of his father and Felicity.      

 

Stiles jumped when he heard a key being put into the lock of the apartment’s door, and he glanced at his watch.  Two hours had passed, and Felicity was obviously home from work.  He watched as the door was opened, and Felicity hurried through, before closing and relocking the door behind her.

 

“Hi Stiles,” She greeted cheerfully, “did you have a good day...what’s wrong, you look like you’ve been crying?”  Felicity put down her bag and her tablet on  a table and rushed over to Stiles, sitting down beside him and pulling him into a hug.  Stiles carefully began to shift the photo album out of his lap, hoping that Felicity wouldn’t notice what he had been doing, but a small hand wrapping gently around his wrist stopped his movemenets.

 

“What’s up?” she asked. 

 

Stiles shrugged, “Just looking at some old photos...I didn’t remember us spending so much time with the Hales.”

 

Felicity ran her fingers through Stiles’ hair, noticing that it was longer than she had ever seen it since before their mother got sick.

 

“Laura and I were best friends...and you needed the distraction.  Laura’s family was huge...and very distracting...and you seemed to enjoy it...even though you and Cora didn’t really get on as well as Laura and I hoped.”

 

“I remember the night of the fire.  Dad took us both up to the house when he got the call, so you could be there for Laura....there was smoke everywhere.” Stiles told Felicity, who nodded sadly.

 

“I know, Stiles...I...I have nightmares about it, even now...the same thing happening to you and John...being trapped and not being able to get out...suffocating in all that smoke...dying in the flames.”

 

“I do as well,” Stiles admitted, being honest.  Just after the Hale fire he had been plagued by nightmares about things (and people he knew) burning, but then his overactive mind had moved on to other fears...up until Stiles was responsible for Peter Hale erupting into flames.  He had, after all, been the one who had thought up the idea of using fire against the formerly burned wolf (although Lydia did get credit for being the one to give him the idea). 

 

“What brought this on?” Felicity asked, curious about what brought on Stiles’ sudden interest in the Hales.

 

“Derek...he...he’s back in Beacon Hills...he has been since Laura died.  We...we’re kind of friends.  Sometimes Scott and a few other kids and I hang around in the woods near the Hale house with him...but it’s cool...we’re not in trouble or anything.” Stiles babbled.  Felicity’s eyebrows rose.

 

‘You...you hang out with Derek Hale...does your dad know about this.”

 

“He knows that we sort of know each other”

 

“Does he know that you are kind of friends and that you hang together in the reservation where his sister died and numerous other people were mauled to death by a mountain lion?”

 

“Not exactly,” Stiles admitted sheepishly.

 

“Are you on drugs?” Felicity said, “because if you are I am going to be so disappointed, Stiles.  You know how dangerous drugs are.  This is bad...this is worse than Thea...you’re barely 16 years old, Stiles.  What is it, Heroin?  Marijuana? Meth?  Please tell me it’s not Vertigo.  Who knows what any of those would do when combined with your Adderal.”

 

“I’m not on drugs, God.” Stiles retorted, “we just...hang out...run around like idiots...you know, teenage stuff.”

 

“And I thought Oliver was crap at lying.” Felicity sighed, dropping her head back against the back of the couch.

 

“I’m not lying...I am not on drugs, Felicity,” Stiles argued.

 

“Then why are you lying.  You lying so much is why John sent you here, isn’t it?  You admitted to lying to him about who your friends are.  I know it’s difficult...especially with everything that’s been happening in Beacon Hills crimes wise...I know he’s busy and that he isn’t around much, but he’s there for you...you know that.”

 

Stiles nodded and dropped his eyes looking at his lap, guilt coursing through him.  He wished he could tell his dad the truth, but it was too dangerous.  His dad would get involved, even more than he was already as the Sherriff, and Stiles worried that his dad would be hurt, or killed, because of his knowledge.  It was best for him to be safe and not know, even if it meant he was disappointed in Stiles.  Another part of Stiles also knew that it wasn’t his secret to tell.  If his father was told, it would have to be Derek or Scott that told him that werewolves were real.

 

“I’m sorry, Stiles...I shouldn’t have snapped at you like I did...I’m just worried about you...John is too.  I...I get that you’re growing up, and that you want to look grown up...I know that you’ve looked after John since I left and made sure he ate healthy and all that, but you need to talk to someone, and maybe it needs to be someone who isn’t related to you.”

 

“You’re sending me to a psychologist?’ Stiles asked in shock.  Sure, his dad had sent him to the school councillor, but he hadn’t expected Felicity to do the same.

 

“No...no, nothing like that...you and I have had enough of those to last a lifetime...you and I...we’ve been invited out to dinner by two of the guys I work with.  Um...probably should mention that one of them is Oliver Queen, but yeah, they’re good guys, and if you need to do, I don’t know, male bonding things, well, I think they would be okay with that.”

 

Stiles was staring at Felicity in shock, his brown eyes wide, and his mouth hanging open, “You work with Oliver Queen?” he asked.

 

“Well...I do work at Queen Consolidated...what do you think?”

 

“But, like...you know Oliver Queen, as in, one of the richest men in the country?  As in, heir to one of the richest families in the country, as in, the guy who lived on a deserted island for five years after the boat accident that killed his father...that Oliver Queen, who also happens to be friends with you?”

 

Felicity laughed, “Well, yes,”

 

“How did that happen?”

 

“He needed me to fix his laptop one day not long after he got back, and now I’m his IT girl or if he wants someone to look something up for him...you know, the whims of the rich and famous.”

 

“Um...I didn’t really pack anything nice to wear,” Stiles admitted. 

 

Felicity smiled reassuringly, “It’s okay...we’re just going to a diner.  Diggle...the other guy, who is Oliver’s bodyguard, his sister in law works there...they make seriously good curly fries.”

 

Stiles’ ears perked up at the mention of his favourite food.

 

“Curley fires?” he asked, licking his lips.

 

“At least it will be something to brag about in front of Jackson and Lydia,” Felicity reasoned with a smile.  Stiles laughed.

 

“Lydia will chuck a fit,”: he agreed, “although...I’ve kind of realised that I’m not, you know, in love with her.  We’re friends now...she’s kind of a bit like you, you know, my sort of sister slash friend...does that make sense?”

 

“I know what you mean,” Felicity nodded.”So, are we okay?”

 

Stiles nodded, and got to his feet, putting the photo albums away.

 

“So...when do we have to be at this diner with curly fries?” he asked with a smile.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Oliver spotted Felicity and a lanky teen as they approached the diner, and his mind immediately began assessing the teenager.  He was smaller than Roy, both in height and in build, but the presence of half healed injuries on his face indicated that Felicity’s baby brother had been in a fight semi recently.  Oliver’s quick eyes noticed the way the teenager moved...flighty, vigilant, close to Felicity so that he could protect her within a moment’s notice...it was enough to put Oliver on alert.  The kid obviously had reason to be concerned, but it might be something completely innocent, like being a small town kid in the city for the first time...especially with the crime rate being as high as it was at the moment. 

 

Still, the pair reached the diner safely, and Oliver waved from the booth he was in.  Felicity smiled when she spotted him, and led the way over,  the kid trailing behind her, looking around curiously, and obviously making a conscious effort to not be caught staring at Oliver. 

 

“Hey Felicity,” Oliver greeted with a grin, rising out of his seat and shaking her hand politely. 

 

Felicity beamed, “Hi Oliver,”’ she greeted.  “Um, Stiles, this is Oliver Queen.  Oliver, this is my baby brother Stiles.” She added, introducing the two males to one another.  Stiles bit his lip insecurely and shook hands with Oliver.

 

“Hi,” Oliver greeted with a gentle smile, “Are you enjoying your summer in Starling city so far?”

 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Queen, Um...yeah...Kind of spent most of it on Felicity’s couch watching movies, but it’s been good...nice and quiet.” Stiles stammered as he slid into the booth, claiming the window seat, “No schoolwork though, which is great.” Stiles added with a sheepish grin as  Felicity sat beside him, with Oliver opposite them, with space fir Diggle, who Oliver could see talking to Carly.

 

“Mr. Queen is my dad...you can call me Oliver, Stiles.  What’s your favourite movie that you’ve seen so far?” Oliver asked, using his limited prior experience of normal teenagers (meaning teenagers whose parents were not members of the elite social circle of Starling City) to engage in small talk with the teen.  Stiles beamed, and Oliver mentally patted himself on the back.  Obviously the right question to ask Stiles in order to get him to talk.

 

“Avengers...I’ve read Comic books since I could read, and I’ve always liked the Avengers.  When i was younger I liked Iron man the best, because i thought it was awesome how Tony Stark built his suit and the arc reactor in his chest, and how he has all this high tech stuff... but now, after watching the movie, Hawkeye is so my favourite.”

 

Oliver choked on his drink at the teen’s comment, and Felicity struggled to hide her snort of amusement.  Even though he’d been living on an island for five years Oliver had still seen the Avengers film (Theah had made him watch it within a month of his return), and knew full well who Hawkeye was, and what he was known for.

 

“Really...why?”  he asked once he had regained his breath.

 

“Because he’s the human one...the one with natural talent and not just a biochemical boost.  I mean, the Black Widow got pumped full of drugs when she was younger as part of the Red Room program, although it’s never mentioned in any of the marvel movies.  I mean, she’s technically older than Hawkeye, Bruce Banner and Tony Stark, she just doesn’t look it becase of all the drugs the red room gave her...she’s like, immortal. Steve Rogers obviously got the Super Soldier Serum, Tony Stark has the Iron man suit, Thor is a God out of Norse mythology and therefore isn’t human, and Bruce Banner was exposed to the Gamma radiation, giving him the ability to turn into the hulk.  You take all of that away, and they’re normal people.  Hawkeye, though...he’s a member of the team, and yet he doesn’t have that boost.  If all the others lost their powers for some reason, they’d be reasonably helpless, but Hawkeye would still be able to kick the bad guy’s ass.  Add that to the fact that his primary weapon is a bow and arrow, which is awesome, even though it’s a really old weapon bows and arrows are still cool...and the fact that Hawkeye is so good at it just adds to how cool he is, because it’s a lot harder than it looks...trust me.”

 

“You’ve used a bow and arrow before?” Oliver kept his surprise concealed, instead putting off an air of Curiosity.

 

Stiles shrugged, “One of my friends...she...she does archery...She won a few state championships and things when she was younger, and she gave me a few lessons  on the basics...I’m not very good though.  Who is your favourite Avenger?”

 

Oliver blinked, thrown off by the question, and he had to think back to the long carefree days of his youth when he and Tommy would lounge around and read comics.”

 

“Iron Man,” He said, not missing the similarities between his story, and the back-story of Tony Stark.  Both obscenely wealthy, both had reshaped themselves during a dangerous situation, and then afterwards they had both tried to save the world, hiding behind another identity.  The only difference was that Oliver’s alternative identity was a secret, and Oliver was nowhere near as smart as Tony Stark was supposed to be.  The look on Stiles’ and Felicity’s faces showed that they were not surprised by his response.

 

“I’m more of a Thor fan, myself.  That scene in Thor when Chris Hemsworth takes his shirt off...oh my God, I could stare at that all day,” Felicity put in, before she snapped her mouth shut and a blush covering her cheeks as she realised what she had said.  Oliver quirked his eyebrow at her, and she ducked her gaze. 

 

Stiles closed his eyes, “I didn’t need that mental picture...thank you for scarring me for life.” He told Falsity.

 

“I wasn’t the one who got on my sibling’s computer and looked up porn.” Felicity fired back.  It was Stiles’ turn to blush and duck his head sheepishly, before he glance sideways at Oliver..

 

“Never touch Felicity’s computers,” Stiles told Oliver seriously, “It gets scary...trust me.” 

 

Oliver grinned and leaned back in his chair.  It was then that Diggle joined them, sitting down next to Oliver.  

 

“Ah, you must be Stiles,” he greeted.  Stiles nodded, going quiet again in the presence of a different person.

 

“Stiles this is John Diggle, Oliver’s bodyguard and a friend of mine.” Felicity told her brother, who relaxed a little knowing that Diggle was his sister’s friend.  Carly chose that moment to approach and get their orders, smiling at Stiles until he gave her a smile back as he ordered ‘what he’s been told are the best curly fries in the city.’

 

Felicity had blushed at that, while Carly had beamed at the complement before bustling away to put their respective orders in.

 

“So....Stiles...how’s school going...Felicity tells us you’ve very smart.”

 

“Schools...okay...I guess.  I’m not there at the moment, which is good.  I get good grades, which keeps dad happy, even though I have Harris as a teacher...which sucks.  He hates me,” he told them nonchalantly, “I’m not as smart as Lydia, but most of my teachers agree that I’m the second smartest in our year...which is good.  I think Lydia would beat me up if I got better marks than her...so I’m happy with second.” Stiles babbled.

 

“Do you play any sports?” Diggle asked, and out of the corner of his eye Oliver saw Felicity nod encouragingly...obviously sports was another safe topic.

 

Stiles beamed, “I play Lacrosse for the school.  We won our championship game, and it was awesome...ok, I might have got beaten up by the other team afterwards...but it was still awesome.  It was the first time i got to play in an actual game, and I played really well...not so much at first, but in the second half of the game I got better.  I scored three goals, and everyone was so excited about it...Dad... Lydia...Scott...Even coach was excited...I think he was crying at one point.”

 

“Sounds like you were the hero,” Oliver said with a smile, but the way that Stiles’ face fell after the comment made the smile fade.

 

“Not really.  Scott and Jackson are the heroes...and Danny.  They’re the ones that got us into the championship game.  I just sat on my backside on the sidelines, watching.  The coach only let me play in the championship game because it was me or Greenberg, and apparently I suck marginally less than him.”

 

Oliver couldn’t help but note the self depreciating tone in Stiles’ voice.  He recognized it as the voice of someone who was used to never being enough, and was trying to accept that they would never be enough for those around them.  It was something that had plagued his own youth, and Tommy’s even more notably.  It was one of the reasons they had acted out so much when they were about Stiles’ age.    

     

There were definitely similarities between Stiles and Tommy’s lives.  They had both lost their mothers at a young age, and Oliver remembered the previous Christmas Felicity mentioning that her step dad was a workaholic who was devoted to his job and spent more time at work than was considered to be healthy.

 

“Lacrosse...interesting choice of sport...not football.” Diggle commented. 

 

Stiles snorted scathingly, “Lacrosse is far rougher,” he told them, “even at high school level...but Beacon Hills high has always favoured Lacrosse over football...it just means that sometimes we need to travel further to get to our matches.”

 

“Once of the schools I went to had a lacrosse team...I was on it, until I got kicked out of the school.” Oliver admitted, causing the other three occupants at the table to look at him in surprise.

 

“You played lacrosse?...I can’t picture your mother approving of that, given the injury rate.” Diggle commented.  Oliver shrugged.  His mother had been against his joining the team, but his father had supported him, even attending a few games, despite his busy schedule.

 

“Wow...I learn something new about you every day.  Trust me, I went to a few matches...I know how brutal it could be...one of the guys I went to school with broke his leg in two places, and that was just in practise.” Felicity commented, obviously impressed. 

 

“Were you any good?” Stiles asked, “and its okay, you can tell, me, because I stink usually, I completely fluked those goals that I scored.”

 

“I never scored more than once in a game, and to be honest I didn’t train very hard, so I didn’t improve with time...I kind of drove the coach nuts because I didn’t put in any effort.” Oliver told Stiles

 

“I think all coaches are nuts...I mean, my coach gives us the speech from Independence day before every major match, just because it’s his favourite movie.”

 

Diggle and Oliver laughed as Carly brought over their food, and they all ate, as it had been awhile since any of them ate, for various reasons.  Felicity had spent her lunch break working and talking to Oliver and Diggle, Oliver didn’t eat more than a light snack in the middle of the day, and Diggle followed Oliver’s lead.

 

“Sorry, but I’m curious...Stiles...where did that name come from?” Diggle asked. Felicity and Stiles both smiled.

 

“It’s mom’s fault, actually,” Stiles said, “She wanted to name me after her dad...apparently they were really close up until he died before Felicity was born...the only problem is that it’s the most impossible name to pronounce in the world...so  mom, Dad and Felicity decided to nickname me Stiles, since my last name is Stilinski.  Now I never get called by my real name.” 

 

“Really...try us.  It can’t be that bad.” Oliver said, up for a challenge.  Felicity was ready, and she slid a napkin with Stiles’ real name written on it across the table.  Oliver and Diggle looked at it.

 

“Seriously?” Oliver asked after a few silent attempts at sounding the word out

 

“Yep...” Stiles nodded proudly.

 

“How do you even pronounce that?” Diggle asked

 

“It’s not worth the effort...Stiles is so much easier...I don’t really know what mom was thinking when she decided on giving him that name.” Felicity said, sipping her drink.

 

“What did your dad think?” Diggle asked.

 

“He was that in love with mom that he didn’t care.” Felicity smiled in reply, “although he might have been the one who decided we needed a nickname....Now tell me Stiles, are those curly fries as good as the ones back home?””

 

Stiles paused before putting another one in his mouth, eating it slowly, with a thoughtful look on his face.  Oliver was forcibly reminded of watching his mother taste testing wines.

 

“Not quite,” Stiles finally decided, “But they are still really good.  Nothing can beat the Curley fries from back home...number two ranked on my list easily”

 

“That’s fair enough, nothing beats the food from back home,” Diggle said with a grin. And Felicity and Stiles both nodded, smiling in agreement.

 

TW/A

 

Oliver was quiet as he trained in his underground lair, lost in his own thoughts as he worked on his upper body strength.  He had failed the Glades, failed Tommy, and he knew that he had to work harder...push himself more, to fix the problems caused by Tommy’s dad and his own mother.  It wouldn’t bring back everyone that had died, but Oliver hoped that it would ease the burning feeling of guilt that rages in his chest.

 

From the sidelines, Diggle watched, leaning against Felicity’s desk.  Felicity had gone back home after dinner with her little brother, so the computers were off and unattended.

 

“Felicity’s brother seems like a good kid.” Diggle offered in way of conversation.  Oliver said nothing in response, but Diggle saw the minute twitch in Oliver’s facial features.

 

“You don’t think so?” he asked curiously.  Oliver sighed, finally stopping his workout, catching the towel that Diggle threw at him in one hand and rubbing perspiration off his face and arms.

 

“I think he’s a good kid, but I’m worried about what he’s going to do this summer.  Felicity can’t take time off work, not even if I got involved...the IT department is insanely busy at the moment, and Stiles isn’t the sort of kid that is going to spend all his time in a apartment...you saw him tonight...he was constantly moving, even if it was just tapping his fingers on his leg.  It’s been two days and I could tell that it was getting to him.  Starling City isn’t safe.”

 

“You’re not worried about the other kids...Roy and Thea aren’t that much older.”

 

“Roy grew up in the Glades...and I know that to a certain extent he can look after himself, and Thea’s spending her summer either at home, where there is a lot of security, or helping Laurel, and Detective Lance has Laurel is almost under 24 hour police surveillance.  Thea is probably safer now than she was before the earthquake.  Stiles has never been to a big city like this before.  Beacon Hills is tiny in comparison...He’s the son of the Sherriff, so he probably knows pretty much everyone in town.  Starling City is a lot more dangerous than Beacon Hills ever could be.

 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Diggle commented, turning around and flicking on a monitor, before bringing up a file on the screen.  Oliver frowned, approaching the computers, before leaning over so he could see.

 

“Crime summary for Beacon Hills in the last 12 months.  I don’t know about you, but for a town that size, it looks a bit excessive.”

 

Oliver frowned as he read the statistics.  For a town its size, Beacon Hills had a high crime rate...it was no wonder that Felicity’s stepfather was kept busy.

 

“Can you bring up a list of witnesses to each event?” Oliver asked, and Diggle nodded, tapping on a few keys.

 

“Maybe we should focus on fixing Starling City before we go off on some mission to save some random town in North California?” Diggle suggested as the new data was brought up on screen.  Both men scanned the screen with their eyes.

 

‘Shit,” Diggle cursed noticing a certain name that popped up very regularly.

 

“I was hoping that wasn’t going to happen...I don’t think being beaten up by the other lacrosse team is what happened to him.”

 

“You think he’s involved in something...What, gang related?”

 

“Could be,” Oliver shrugged, “but I’m going to find out...you still think he’s a good kid?”

 

Diggle looked at the list of incidents Stiles’ had been listed as a witness for.

 

“I don’t know...I don’t think he’s a bad kid, but he could have got involved in the wrong crowd.”

 

Oliver nodded, “We need to get to the bottom of this.  If it is gang related...or something similar, it might follow him here...and that puts Felicity in danger.”

 

““I’ll have a look at the police reports; see if I can find anything useful.  What are you going to do?” Diggle asked.  Oliver frowned thoughtfully.

 

“I think I have an idea...I need to visit someone and ask a few questions first though.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

Oliver shifted his feet after he knocked on the door, hoping that Laurel’s dad wasn’t visiting his daughter.  Oliver had kept a respectful distance since the earthquake and Tommy’s death and the subsequent funeral, and Laurel had thrown herself into her word, rebuilding the CRNI with Thea and the rest of the staff, putting in long shifts.  Thea had kept Oliver informed of how Laurel was doing, but there was no way he would be able to do this through Thea, or even over the phone...it would be too insensitive, even for him.

 

He heard the door unlock and open as far as the chain would allow.

 

“Oliver,” Laurel greeted, “I haven’t seen you around much.”

 

“I’ve been busy rebuilding the nightclub and thinking about my mom’s court case, and everything...well...it’s been a bit chaotic.  I’m sorry I haven’t been a very good friend for you when you needed one.”

 

“It’s okay...I know you and Tommy weren’t talking when...when he died, but...but he was your friend too.  You needed time to process what had happened.  Tommy was the same when you went missing.”

 

“Yeah...I guess so,” Oliver conceded.

 

“Do you want to come in?” Laurel asked.

 

“I don’t want to impose,” Oliver started before Laurel shook her head with a smile.

 

“No, it’s okay, I was just going to watch some TV...get my mind off things.  You’re welcome to join me if you want.”

 

“Ok then,” Oliver said, stepping over the threshold.  Laurel walked over to her couch, and Oliver followed her, sitting down stiffly

 

“You OK, Oliver?” Laurel asked, concern on her face.

 

“Yeah...I just...I want to ask you a favour, and I don’t know how you’re going to react to it.”

 

“How about you ask, and I’ll try not to react.”

 

“Ok...there’s this kid...he’s young, I met him through a friend, and I’m worried that he might be involved in the wrong group of people back home.  He’s only visiting Starling City, and he’s staying with his sister who works long days, and he’s been forbidden from going out on his own, he lives too close to the Glades, so he’s really bored, and I want to, I don’t know, help him get his feet back under him”

 

“How noble of you,” Laurel smiled, “What does that have to do with me?” she asked.

 

“Do you happen to know what happened to Tommy’s Lacrosse gear?” 

 

TW/A

 

Stiles beamed when he saw Scott’s face on his laptop screen, thrilled to see his friend for the first time in what felt like years...even though it had only been a few days.  Stiles would have skyped Scott earlier, but it had been the full moon, and with Jackson still being very new to the process, Erica and Boyd still having trouble controlling the shift on a full moon, and Peter being obviously untrustworthy, Derek, Scott and Isaac had been busy trying to prepare Jackosn for what he was about to experience.  Now though, the full moon was over, and Stiles felt no guilt at all for contacting his friend.

 

“Hey,” Stiles greeted as Scott smiled happily at him through the screen..

 

“Stiles...how’s life in Starling City?  How’s Felicity going...I hope you’re not using her laptop.”

 

“Dude, it was once, and I learned my lesson well.  I will never again touch my sister’s computer,”  Stiles laughed, remembering the occasion when , during a summer break from college, Stiles had borrowed Felicity’s computer without asking.  Never before had his sister been so scary as she had been that day.  Stiles had learned that you never got between Felicity Smoak and her computer...not if you valued your life anyway.

 

“So...what’s it like?” Scott asked.

 

“It’s bigger than Beacon Hills...I mean, the area that got affected by the earthquake...it’s called the Glades.  That part of the city alone is about the size of Beacon Hills.  I can see it if I look out the window.  Apparently Felicity didn’t get much damage here though...just a broken cup or two.”

 

“My mom heard that there’s been a lot of looting and stuff going on...I’m pretty sure she thinks your dad was a idiot to send you there with it being like it is...although I think she can see his point of view, considering he doesn’t know, you know...”

 

“Don’t say it...Remember, I’m living with someone who makes what Danny can do with computers look like kiddie level baby stuff.”

 

“Right.”

 

“Speaking of...stuff, how are the others going...was Jackson a pain in the ass when, you know...things happened?”

 

“It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but it did get a bit hairy for a bit there...no pun intended, especially when Isaac’s control isn’t so great, and Erica and Boyd had trouble too...Derek thought it might have to do with what happened with Gerard.”

 

“How have they been going?”

 

“Ok.  Derek’s been keeping them close, and Isaac never leaves Derek’s shadow.  He’s scared that he’ll be next, and, well, with his background...you know...with his dad, you can see why.  Chris and Derek are working on a new pact between us and them...basically we stay out of each other’s way as long as we don’t kill anyone and Derek eases up on the biting anything that moves.”

 

“How are you and Allison going?” Stiles asked in a gentle tone.  Scott beamed, and Stiles inwardly relaxed.  If Scott had been left alone for the summer with no Stiles and no Allison to occupy him, Stiles had no idea what his best friend would do...probably mope and practise pulling puppy faces in the mirror.

 

“We’re patching things up...although she’s keeping her distance from the others.  After everything that’s happened this last year I think she and her dad are retiring from the active hunting business.  Derek doesn’t trust either of them though.”

 

“Sounds rough,” Stiles winced, “What about Lydia?”

 

“She stayed with Jackson up until he started to shift, then Derek made her leave for her own protection.  I think she’s trying to learn as much about...things...as she can so she can help Jackson transition.  She’s been pushing Derek to rebuild or renovate the house so that it’s more comfortable and everyone can stay over, because she refuses to stay at the train yard or Derek’s loft, and Isaac says the loft is Squishy with just him and Derek staying there.  If the whole pack comes over it’s not going to work.  I mean...at the moment the pack has six you know, people like me, and four humans, plus Peter if he pulls his head out of his butt.  Oh, get this!  I’ve got news that you missed out on.  Jackson has brought Danny into the...group..  He was all like, ‘if Scott gets to have his little friend as a part of this, then I do too.’  You should have seen Danny’s face when Jackson introduced him to Derek.  He was all like ‘so, I’m guessing you’re not Stiles’ cousin’...when did you tell him that anyway?”

 

“I asked him to trace the message that Peter sent Allison off your number...Derek was, fortunately in the room with me, and he needed to change shirt...if you get what I mean,” Stiles quirked his eyebrow, and it took a minute for Scott to catch on.

 

“Oh My God...you pimped out Derek Hale?  How the hell are you still alive?”

 

“I don’t know...although he did slam my face into the steering wheel of my Jeep pretty hard afterwards...have you seen my dad?”

 

 “Yeah, I saw him yesterday when he was in the car patrolling and I was coming back from training up at the Hale’s house.  I spoke to him for a bit, he seemed to be okay...He said he’d been eating healthy, and I couldn’t smell any junk food on him.”

 

“Good...I don’t want to find out that he’s been having bacon and eggs for breakfast every day, and chips or pizza for dinner...and he’s not supposed to have doughnuts either.”

 

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Scott promised solemnly, “your dad will be fine.”

 

“I’ll hold you to that,” Stiles frowned.

 

“So, have you been doing anything fun?  Different?” Scott asked

 

“Not really...Felicity is busy with work, so when she gets home she just wants to veg out in front of the TV.  I’m not allowed to leave the apartment during the day because it’s too dangerous out on the streets, even during the day, according to Felicity, so I’ve pretty much been bored, just watching movies and stuff...you’ll never guess what i did last night.  You know who Oliver Queen is...the billionaire that supposedly was killed when his father’s yacht sunk in a storm about six years ago, but then he got found late last year on a deserted island.”

 

“Yeah?” Scott nodded.

 

“I got to have dinner with him and his bodyguard last night.  Apparently Felicity helped him out with some IT stuff, and they’re friends.  She’d told them about me, and they wanted to meet me.  It was so totally awesome.  You can’t tell Jackson and Lydia though; I want to see the looks on their faces when they find out.  I can’t wait.”

 

Scots eyes were nearly popping out of his head, “that is so awesome,” he exclaimed, “You met Oliver Queen...what was he like?”

 

“Really polite and suave, like James Bond...Sean Connery James Bond, not Daniel Craig James Bond, but at the same time he was easy to talk to, and he was really interested in what i had to say.  In some ways he kind of reminded me of Derek...only...nicer.”

 

Scott snorted, “I’m sorry, but I seriously can’t imagine you and Oliver Queen having dinner together.  What did you guys talk about?”

 

“Believe it or not, movies.  He asked me what my favourite movie is, and I told him the Avenges, and we talked about our favourite superheroes.  His was predictable.”

 

“Iron Man?” Scott suggested and Stiles nodded, before he sighed and shook his head, rolling his eyes at Oliver Queen’s predictable taste in superheroes.

 

“I wasn’t sure which one I expected more...Iron man or Black Widow...some people have no imagination.”

 

“Sounds like you had fun,” Scott said, and Stiles caught the slightly hurt catch in Scott’s voice.

 

“Not as much fun as I would have if I was back at home.  I miss you guys heaps.  I’m missing out on watching Derek beat Jackson up as part of training...I’m missing chatting with Lydia about all this crazy stuff that may or may not be real...I’m missing out on Isaac following you and Derek around like a lost little puppy...I’m missing out on Derek being all...well, Derek...I’m missing out on spending time with my Catwoman and her silent stoic companion...I’m missing out on Danny realising that Derek wasn’t actually my cousin...I’m missing out on Peter, well, no, I’m not missing him at all, and you...I’m missing you being there...being my best friend in the whole world...the one I can talk to about pretty much everything, the one who I can trust despite all the crazy stuff that goes on in our lives.  When...when I’m here I’m away from you all, and I hate it.  I should be happy because I’m with Felicity, and we haven’t seen each other in years, but all I want to do is go back home.” Stiles sniffed, and realised his cheeks were moist, and he hastily wiped them away, hoping Scott didn’t see the tears that had rolled down his face..

 

“I know, Stiles...It...it’s not the same without you.  Derek keeps going on about how quiet it is, but he misses you...Allison and Lydia miss you...Isaac misses you...Erica and Boyd miss you...I think Jackson even misses you.  Danny wasn’t involved before you left, so he just wishes you were around to be someone else non...someone else normal to talk to.  How are you coping with...everything?”

 

Stiles tensed.  Scott had always known that Stiles was prone to nightmares, and they had only gotten worse after Scott had been bitten.  Few people would know as well as Scott how Stiles had been affected by everything that had happened.

 

“Sleep...sleep doesn’t really happen much these days.  I’m not doing anything, so I’m not getting tired, and when I finally do pass out, all I can see is Gerard Argent looming over me, or the Kanima about to rip my head off, or my dad, dead, or you, dead, or Felicity dead, or Derek dead, or Lydia...or any of the others...and they’re all dead or dying, and I can’t make it stop.” Stiles swallowed and forced himself to breath, feeling the beginnings of a panic attack stirring within him. 

 

Scott frowned, “Stiles...breath...everyone is alright...you’re alright...just breath, in and out,” Scott exaggerated his breathing so Stiles would be able to hear it through the laptop speakers, and Stiles wordlessly began to try and copy him.  It wasn’t as effective as leaning his head against the chest of the other person, but it still worked, and Stiles felt the tightness in his chest loosen up.

 

“Has that been happening often?” Scott asked once he could tell that Stiles had calmed down. 

 

Stiles shrugged, “It’s felt like I’ve been on the edge of a panic ever since that night at the police station,” he admitted, “Ms. Morrell said that I’m showing signs of PTSD...and that was before I got beaten up by a 90 year old.” Stiles snapped his mouth shut, having not intended on telling Scott that little piece of information.

 

“You didn’t need to know that though.  You and Derek and the others have way bigger issues to face.”

 

The look of concern on Scott’s face deepened, “would Felicity let you come home early?” he asked. 

 

Stiles snorted, “No...she knows that something’s up with me.  We had a fight the other day...she thought I was on drugs, like illegal drugs, not just my Adderal, she knows something is up...she’s taking dad’s side in this.  She thinks I should stay and...get clean, or whatever.”

 

“Stiles...you can’t keep trying to get through this on your own,” Scott argued, “You should be back here, where you can talk to people...me...Derek...Lydia...hell, even Jackson.  No-one’s going to think any less of you...these past few months...all of this year since I got bitten, it’s been hell.  You should be here trying to deal with the rest of us, not in Starling City with no-one who knows the truth about what we’ve been through.”

 

“What do you think I should do, Scott...run off...get myself back to Beacon Hills, and face the prospect of my dad sending me right back here...permanently?  He’s so angry with me at the moment...he’s so disappointed in me...I can’t make it worse...I need him, Scott.  He’s all I’ve got.  Him and Felicity and you and the others.  I can’t handle it when he’s not talking to me.  I’m...I’m scared that something will happen and I’ll never see him again.”

 

“I know Stiles...I’ll look after him for you.  I promise.  You just...you just look after yourself, okay?”

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Stiles nodded.

 

“Look, I’ve gotta go, I’ve got training up at Derek’s house with Erica, Boyd, Jackson and Isaac.”

 

“Tell them I say hi...and annoy Derek for me.”

 

“Of course,” Scott smiled.  Stiles tapped on his computer and ended the conversation, before leaning back against the couch, before he shut down his laptop and slid it safely back in its bag.  He jumped, startled, when his phone rang, and he picked it up, checking the caller id, half expecting it to be Lydia or Derek, checking on him.  There was no way Scott would be able to keep his mouth shut about the troubles Stiles was having, but instead it was Felicity.  He sighed and answered the phone.

 

“Why do you have nothing to do at this place?” he asked     

 

“Hello, nice to hear your voice to.  I thought you had better manners than that.  I have someone here who wants to talk to you.”

 

“Me...ok?” Stiles frowned, flopping back so he was lying down on the couch.  There was some rustling, as if Felicity’s phone was being handed over.

 

“Hey Stiles, It’s Oliver Queen.

 

“Mr. Queen, sir.” Stiles stammered, sitting bolt upright, “um, hi.”

 

“Call me Oliver...how’s it going...bored?”

 

“A little” Stiles admitted, “I skyped with my friend just before, and now I have no plans for the rest of my day...I’ve even already done my holiday homework and my holiday reading, and re-organised Felicity’s books into order according to date of publication...don’t tell her that though... she’ll be pissed.”

 

“Um...you’re on speaker.” Felicity’s voice came down the line

 

“Oh crap” Stiles ran his fingers through his hair, “I’ll fix it up”

 

“I’ll appreciate it,”

 

“Tell me though...why do you have 50 Shades of Grey?  I never thought you would be the sort to favour that sort of...entertainment. ”

 

“Um...they were a gift...don’t even think about reading those books, Stiles,” Felicity stammered.  Stiles grinned, imagining the blush that would be on his sister’s face at that precise moment.

 

“And stop smiling, I can tell you are, you evil little brother.”

 

“Yes Felicity,” Stiles rolled his eyes.

 

“Anyway,” Oliver said, although Stiles could hear the amusement in his voice, “I was wondering if you had any plans for tomorrow?”

 

“No...no plans,” Stiles said.

 

“Good...you want to come and practise Lacrosse with me?”

 

Stiles choked, “Uh, where...I’m on house arrest here.”

 

“It’s only when I’m not there.” Felicity protested.

 

“Yeah, and I’m sure you’re going to be able to do a lot if we get mugged, Felicity” Stiles pointed out sarcastically ‘I probably have more muscle than you...and I have little to no muscle whatsoever.”.

 

“Up at my house...lots of space and it’s fully fenced...I promise you won’t get mugged.”

 

“I don’t have any of my gear though.”

 

“I’ve been able to find a second set...are you interested?”

 

Stiles bit his lip, hesitating, before he shrugged.

 

“Eh, why not...Coach did say we should practise over the summer and the off season.”

 

“Good.  I’ll see you at 11 then...I’ll get Dig to come and get you at ten thirty.”

 

“Um okay,” Stiles said.

 

“See you then...bye.”

 

“Okay, Bye” Stiles said, before he hung up.  He looked around the empty apartment in confusion.

 

‘Okay, what the hell just happened?” he asked the air, but he got no response.


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles wasn’t bothering to even attempt to keep his mouth shut as he was driven up the driveway to the Queen Mansion.  Growing up in Beacon Hills, the two nicest houses had belonged to Lydia’s family, and to Jackson’s, but they both paled in comparison to the sheer size and opulence of the Queen family estate.  Stiles was terrified that he was misaim a ball, and would smash a window or something.

“A bit over the top for us normal folk, huh Stiles?” Diggle asked from the front seat.  Stiles coughed.

 

‘Just a little, “he agreed,  “Lydia and Jackson would literally die if they knew where I was right now.”

 

“Fans of the Queen family?” Diggle asked curiously.

 

“Two of the people I hang out with, ‘Stiles corrected,   “Lydia’s dad is a plastic surgeon who works on famous people in L.A, and Jackson’s parents are both wealthy Lawyers.  Their family’s are the richest in the county...no match for people like Scott and I...although Danny’s got a nice house too, but he is the Mayor’s son, so you know...with great power comes great responsibility, and a awesome house, apparently ”

 

Diggle snorted, “Not for me, thanks.  I like my job just fine.”

 

“Tell me about it.  I wouldn’t swap my life for any of theirs.” Stiles agreed.   It was true.  At least Stiles knew his parents loved one another, til death do us part, even though his mother was gone, a stark contrast to Lydia’s parents, who were always fighting and using Lydia agasint each other. Jackson was adopted, and Stiles knew that his parents weren’t all that attentive (except when it came to putting restraining orders on teenagers that thier son alledged had kidnapped him)...there was no way Stiles wanted Jackson’s life.  The only reason Stiles didn’t want Danny’s life was because the other teen spent so much time with Jackson.

 

 Stiles turned in his seat to look at Felicity, who was smiling at him.  Apparently Oliver had asked her to do some work on his computers at home so he would able to work from the mansion, instead of commuting into the city, so she was coming with them.  Stiles wasn’t sure about how he felt about Oliver making Felicity work on the weekend, but she seemed okay with it, so he said nothing about it.

 

“Have you been here before?” he asked.

 

“Just the once...there was a big party and i got invited,”

 

Stiles nodded and fell silent against as the car pulled up in front of the mansion.  Oliver was standing on the front steps, dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a jumper, a bag in one hand, and a pair of lacrosse sticks in the other.  Felicity and Stiles both had their doors open before Diggle could get out of the car, causing him to roll his eyes, despite the rueful smile on his face.

 

“Hey guys,” Oliver greeted, pulling Felicity in for a hug, “Thanks for coming up.”

 

“It’s no problem.  Just tell me what needs doing, and I’ll get started.”

 

“Sure,” Oliver said, leading them into the house.  Stiles didn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t what he found inside the Queen family mansion.  It was all very grand, and Stiles shifted slightly, not feeling overly comfortable with the grandeur.

 

Oliver led them to a Study, with a computer set up, and Felicity immediately got to work.  Stiles leading the way back out of the study, knowing how much his sister hated being watched while she worked.

 

“So...you feel up for some Lacrosse?” Oliver asked.  He was still holding the bagand the two sticks.  Stiles nodded, and Oliver beamed, handing him the bag. 

 

‘This is for you to use.” He told him and Stiles set the bag down on the floor, opening it up.  Inside was a full set of lacrosse padding, a helmet, gloves, and a shirt, obviously part of a uniform.  Stiles cocked his head to the side in confusion (a gesture he had unconsciously picked up from Scott, he was certain) and looked up at Oliver.

 

“The padding belonged to my best friend.  He was on the lacrosse team with me...We used to stuff around and not take it very seriously.  Tommy...he would have wanted someone who was keen to get some use out of it.  The shirt is one of mine from high school...don’t worry; I got in washed yesterday, so it’s clean.

 

“Um...thanks.” Stiles said sheepishly. 

 

“I’ll show you where you can get changed.  I’m going to get changed into something a little better suited for athletics, okay?”

 

“Alright,” Stiles smiled, and Oliver showed him to a guest bedroom, before he vanished, obviously to his own bedroom.  Stiles quickly got changed, pulling on the padding that Oliver had supplied, before putting his sweats and then pulled tOliver’sold shirt on over the top  Then he looked around the room he was in, his mouth falling open at how large the room was...and how expensive everything looked.

 

“Wow...this is weird,” he said softly to himself, before he pinched himself lightly on his arm.  Nope...he wasn’t dreaming.  He was, seriously, about to practise Lacrosse, with Oliver Queen.

 

There was a soft knocking on the door, and Stiles self consciously tugged on the shirt.  Even with the padding underneath it was still big on him...something he was used to.  Stiles was the lightest member of the lacrosse team of Beacon Hills high, thanks to his naturally slight build.  During his freshman year, when he and Scott first got on the team, the Coach had tried to reassure him, telling him that some kids bulked up easier than others, and that going through a stage of not eating after his mother had died had slowed down Stiles’ growth, and that it would take a long time, if ever, for him to reach his full growth potential.  At the time Stiles had taken it as an excuse to eat as much junk food as he liked without worrying about gaining weight.  The craze hadn’t lasted long before Stiles felt guilty for forcing his father to eat healthy, while he gorged himself, so he had resumed his ordinary diet.  Still, the coach had been right...Stiles hadn’t gained any weight in those few months.

 

“Stiles?” Oliver’s voice called from the hallway outside the room Stiles was in, and he jumped, having forgotten Oliver was there.

 

“Yeah, I’m good.” Stiles called, and Oliver opened the door.

 

“You ready?” he asked, passing his eyes over Stiles, checking that he was fully kitted out.  Stiles nodded, picking up the gloves helmet and lacrosse stick Oliver had given him.  Oliver was similarly dressed, although he wore an ordinary t-shirt over the protective padding.  Stiles guessed it was because the shirt that Oliver had once worn as a teenager, even though it was large on Stiles, wouldn’t go close to fitting Oliver as an adult. 

 

Stiles Followed Oliver back outside, and away from the house, with Diggle keeping a respectful distance behind them.  They eventually came to a large grassed area, well clear of any windows that could potentially be smashed by errant balls.  A temporary goal had been set up at one end of the area, and someone had brought out a plastic container that Stiles guessed had some drinks in it for them. 

 

“Wow...this is set up well.” He commented. 

 

Oliver shrugged, “when I was younger my friends and I used to play here...whatever sports we were interested in at the time...it hasn’t been used since before I graduated high school, as far as I know.”

 

Stiles put the bag down and busied himself with putting the gloves Oliver had given him on his hands.  Oliver got a small container of lacrosse balls out of the bag Stiles had been carrying, before he too put on his gloves.  Stiles jogged a few laps of the grassed area to warm up his muscles, knowing that he would be in a lot of trouble from his coach if he got hurt during the summer and couldn’t play next year...especially when it was likely that he’d finally make first line, given his performance in the championship game.. 

 

“So, are we just practising, or is this going to turn into a game of one-on –one?” Stiles asked as he began to stretch, remembering the series of stretches Coach Finstock had drummed into them all.  Oliver stretched too, but Stiles was pretty sure the older man didn’t need it.  He looked as limber as any of the werewolves he saw on a daily basis...including Derek.

 

“Maybe start off with some drills...I’m a little rusty, and see where we go from there,” Oliver suggested, and Stiles nodded in agreement, finishing up his stretches.  Putting on his helmet, Stiles walked out towards the middle of the grassed area, scooping up one of the balls with his lacrosse stick as he went.

 

“Ready?” he called to Oliver, who had pulled his own helmet on.  Stiles threw the ball, and it went wide, Oliver, however, was able to move quickly to retrieve it, and he sent it back towards Stiles, who barely caught it with his net.

 

“So...are many of your friends on the lacrosse team with you?’ Oliver asked as they passed the ball back and forward.

 

“Yeah...most of us are.  Scott and Isaac, and Danny and Jackson are all on the team.  Boyd and Derek aren’t though...even though Derek was when he was in high school.”

 

“You’re friends with a guy who isn’t in high school?” Oliver questioned. 

 

Stiles nodded, “He’s not much older...he’s younger than Felicity,” Stiles defended, “His older sister and Felicity used to be friends.”

 

“Derek...Felicity mentioned him..not in detail, but she told me about the fire and how his sister died last year.  How did you become friends?” Oliver asked...genuinely curious. 

 

“He helped Scott and i out one time, we got lost in the woods.  He scared me a bit at first, but then we spent time together, and he’s actually not all that bad...he just pretends to be a badass, but deep down he’s just a puppy.  Losing his family like it did...it really screwed him up...he has major trust issues.”

 

“I’m sorry to hear that...did you know Derek and his sister well...before the fire?”

 

“When I was little I did.  Laura used to come over and help Felicity babysit Scott and I when dad and Mrs. McCall had night shift...but she and Derek left when she graduated high school, and I didn’t see them again until that day in the woods when...” Stiles snapped his mouth shut, obviously having said too much.  Oliver inwardly smiled.  Getting this kid to talk was easy...Stiles and Felicity both had trouble thinking about things before saying them.

 

“Stiles?” Oliver asked, letting a little bit of concern slip into his voice.  It was genuine too.  The more time he spent with the kid, the more Oliver liked him.  He really didn’t want Stiles to be involved in anything illegal.

 

“You can’t let Felicity know...she’ll panic, but Scott and I were the ones who found the second half of Laura Hale’s body.”

 

“The second half?”

 

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded, “Whatever killed her tore her body in half and carted off one half towards its...lair, but it didn’t get the whole way.   It...it wasn’t a nice thing to find,” Stiles shuddered at the memory, and Oliver cringed at how horrifying it would have been for Stiles to find the body of his former babysitter in the woods.

 

“Who is Scott, you’ve mentioned him a few times?” Oliver asked, trying to steer the conversation in a less traumatic direction.

 

“Scott is, well...Scott.  He’s been my best friend since we were four...he’s...he’s always been there.  I helped him get though his parents’ divorce, and he and Felicity got me through when mom died....he’s my brother...not literally, not by blood, but in every other way.  I don’t know what I would do without him.  This will be the longest we’ll ever have gone without seeing one another...face to face that it...we’re still skyping so I can stay up to date with what’s happening at home.  He’s keeping an eye on my dad for me”

 

“Do you and Scott have many other friends? Oliver asked

 

“Not really, not until just under a year ago.  Last September a new girl moved to Beacon Hills...Allison.  Scott was smitten straight away...it was kind of pathetic.  She became friends with the popular kids in our year level...Lydia, Jackson and Danny, but she still dated Scott, which kind of made us members of the popular group by default...which was weird after ten years of it being just the two of us against the world.  Over the year Isaac, Erica and Boyd became friends with us too...well, sort of...and then there is Derek.  They’re the ones I hang out with these days.  It’s weird, being in such a big group...but at the same time there’s something nice about it.”

 

“These...these popular kids...they’re not pressuring you into doing anything you don’t want to do, are they?” Oliver asked.  Stiles froze, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Oliver.

 

‘Did my sister put you up to this?” he asked suspiciously.  Oliver winced, knowing that Stiles would be on the defensive now.

 

“No...she thinks you need someone other than her to talk to while you’re in Starling City, but I was the one who decided to make sure you weren’t in anything illegal.” He told Stiles honestly, not wanting to cause friction between Stiles and Felicity. 

 

“I’m fine,” Stiles shrugged, fiddling with the lacing of the lacrosse stick. 

 

Oliver nodded, “and that’s why you’re moving stiffly, as if you’ve had ribs recently broken, or at least cracked, and your face looks as though it’s recovering with a beating...one that I’m willing to bet wasn’t caused by members of the Lacrosse team you guys defeated in your championship game.

 

Stiles blinked, and Oliver knew that he’d been right, even though he had made the observation on a whim, without any prior thought.  Stiles ducked his gaze, studying the grass and shifting his feet nervously.

 

“Stiles...I’m going to ask you something, and i need you to be honest with me, alright?”

 

Stiles sighed, and then nodded, although he didn’t look up from his study of the ground.  Oliver took a steadying breath.

 

“Was your dad the one who hurt you?”

 

“No!” Stiles yelped, looking up at Oliver, shock and horror on his face...”What the hell?  My dad would never hurt me...not like this.  Dude, my dad is the best man I have ever known, and he would never do anything that would put me in danger.”

 

“Then who did...who hurt you that badly, Stiles?  One of your friends?  Derek, maybe?”

 

“No...It wasn’t them.” Stiles shook his head.  Oliver noticed how Stiles made no claims that his friends would never hurt him, a stark contrast to when he had been asked if his father was the one responsible.  Oliver didn’t know what that meant, but he made a note of it in his mind.

 

“Who was it then?  If you tell someone...then something could be done to make sure it doesn’t happen again to you, or to someone else,” Oliver reasoned. 

 

Stiles shook his head, “It doesn’t matter anymore...he’s gone, and he’s never coming back...it’s been taken care of.  He’s dead...natural causes, funnily enough.  I got the shit kicked out of me by a cancer ridden 90 something year old man...that’s why no-one knows the truth.  He beats the snot out of me, less than 24 hours later he’s dead from a heart attack or something like that..  It’s embarrassing.”

 

“Stiles,” Oliver began, before Stiles looked at him with a pained look on his face.  A look of defeat, of shame, of fear, and of reluctant acceptance.  Oliver snapped his mouth shut, taking in the emotions written across Stiles’ face.  Stiles slowly sunk to his knees as Oliver watched, his chest heaving a little with every breath the teenager took.  He remembered how Felicity had once said that Stiles was prone to panic attacks in the aftermath of his mother dying, and he swallowed nervously at the prospect of Stiles having a panic attack out here. 

 

“All of my friends are stronger than I am...and I was the one who got beaten up by a man who was older than any of my grandparents would be if they were still alive.  They all know what happened, but I can’t let my dad...or Felicity, know how weak I really am.  My friends already all pity me and try to protect me...I can’t have my dad and Felicity being like that too.”

 

Oliver set aside his lacrosse stick and approached the teenager slowly, cautiously, to indicate he meant no harm.  Still, Stiles tensed as Oliver reached him, and Oliver dropped down to his own knees so they were on the same level.  Up close, Oliver was startled to see the tears shining in Stiles’ eyes.  Stiles leaned wearily against Oliver’s chest, and Oliver bit his lip before slowly, cautiously, putting his arms around the teenager so he was loosely hugging the teenager, with Stiles’ head resting on his shoulder as the teenager struggled to control his emotions. 

 

“What happened to you...it wasn’t your fault, and it doesn’t make you weak, do you understand?  You’re a good person, Stiles.  The man who hurt you...he shouldn’t have done it.  He was the weak one.  Bullies are always the weak ones, not the ones they attack.  Bullies hurt other people just to make themselves feel more powerful,” Oliver told Stiles, rubbing his back reassuringly, “and I bet none of your friends who know what happened think any less of you now than they did before...they probably think you’re even stronger and braver than they are because of it.”

 

Stiles bit his lip and nodded, “Felicity was right, you know...maybe I did need talk to someone.  I hate lying to her and my dad...it’s for their own good, but I hate lying and sneaking around behind their backs...not that I’ve been doing anything since I got here...not when I’m pretty much under house arrest.  Is it actually that dangerous out there?”

 

Oliver didn’t hesitate before nodding, “Maybe you and Felicity can go out for the day tomorrow...she can drive to a safer area and you can have a day out having a look around...but don’t head out on your own when Felicity or someone else isn’t there to drive you to a safe area of the city, and even then don’t go anywhere alone.  Felicity lives too close to the Glades to take any chances.”

 

Stiles pouted, “This is going to be the longest summer ever,” he moaned, pulling away from Oliver, who dropped his arms and shifted away from Stiles, before he got to his feet.

 

“Come on,” he told Stiles after a lengthy pause, ‘We won’t play Lacrosse, you’ll probably hurt those ribs even more, but we can still practise...see if you can play more than one game next year.”

 

“Unlikely, but we may as well.” Stiles shrugged, getting back up and picking up his lacrosse stick again. 

 

“And Stiles?’ Oliver added, looking back over his shoulder at the teenager as he walked back towards his lacrosse stick.

 

“Yeah?” Stiles asked cautiously.

 

‘You ever need to talk or anything...you can call me.”

 

“Er, yeah...alright...Thanks Oliver,” Stiles smiled in reply.  Oliver nodded.

 

“Alright.  Not that you need it, since you’re obviously much better at scoring than I am, but let’s practise shooting goals.”

 

“First to ten gets bragging rights?’ Stiles challenged with a bright and slightly cocky, smile on his face.  Oliver smiled in reply.

 

“You’re on.”

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

“Explain to me how you lost to a kid?’ Diggle asked as he leaned against the wall of the Hood’s basement lair. Oliver was working out high above him, swinging around between the metal roof supports of the basement hideaway. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve played lacrosse, Dig,” Oliver pointed out, “They didn’t have lacrosse on the island.” 

Diggle snorted, “Yeah, But you’re the hood.You spend every night running around the city chasing people on your list, and yet you were beaten by a teenage boy when you tried to see who could score ten goals first. How is that possible? Admit it, you let him win.”

“It’s not like I went easy on him...he’s actually pretty good. Lacrosse is nothing like what I do in the evenings...aside from the violence...and I held off on that...he already has at least one cracked rib...Felicity would kill me if I hurt her little brother even more than he already is.”

Diggle frowned, “You’re certain?” he asked, all trace of banter gone from his voice. Oliver flipped and dropped gracefully to the ground.

“Yep...I got him to open up a bit to me. He’s still hiding stuff, but I know that whatever it was that happened to him...lacrosse had nothing to do with it.”

‘It’s not...it’s not his dad, is it?” John asked. Oliver shook his head.

“I thought that to...but I don’t think his dad is involved. He was talking about how all of his friends know the truth, but his family doesn’t... how he hates lying to them.”

“Sounds like the kid has issues...and that he’s up to something illegal.”

“He won’t tell me what though...and I won’t involve the hood in this...Stiles is too young to be doing anything to warrant getting the hoods attention.. He’s younger than Thea by over two years. It would just scare him and Felicity would never forgive me if I talked to Stiles as the Hood. I don’t know what he’s involved in...but I don’t think it will follow him here, or put Felicity in danger.”

“Did he tell you anything about how he got hurt?” Diggle asked. Oliver nodded.

‘He told me that he was beaten by a 90 year old man with cancer...that he lied about it to his dad because he’s embarrassed by it. Apparently the guy’s dead...so he must have been very sick already, considering it only happened two weeks ago.”

“There is no way a 90 year old inflicted that sort of damage” Diggle frowned, “and, well, Stiles doesn’t have a lot of muscle, but he should have been able to fend off someone that old and frail...unless he didn’t want to hurt whoever it was.”

“He might have been exaggerating about the age. For kids Stiles’ age, doesn’t anyone over the age of 70 automatically become a 100 year old?” Oliver didn’t know if it was still the case, but he remembered joking around with Tommy and Thea about some of their elderly neighbours and their respective ages. Oliver had been convinced that old Mrs. Jenkins, who was the widowed wife of one his father’s friends, was 125 years old...when in fact she had only been 68. 

Diggle inclined his head thoughtfully, “sounds about right for young people.” He agreed, “So what are Felicity and Stiles doing for the rest of the weekend? Are you two going to have a rematch?”

“No,” Oliver smiled, “they should have some time together...Felicity has been busy with work, and it’s been years since they have seen one another. I think they were going to head into the city and check out some of the sights.”

“Sounds good...and what are you going to be doing.”

“The vigilante has been putting a lot of time in lately...tomorrow I think I might take a leaf out of Felicity’s book and spend some time with Thea...it feels like it’s been too long since we just had a day of us relaxing together.”

Diggle nodded in agreement, “Finding a balance is important,” he told Oliver, who sighed, knowing that the balance was never going to be perfect...not in his case anyway. It always felt as though one side, either his life with his family, or his life as the vigilante, was monopolising his time, when he knew that it should be more of an even split.

Still, the conflict within him between the two sides annoyed Oliver and, not fot the first time, he wished he had never left the Island.

But even as he thought about the Island, he thought of Felicity and her shy, contagious smile, her rambling babbles and the way she gave so much to his quest to save Starling City...often volunteering to put herself in danger in order to ensure that no-one else was hurt by those the vigilante hunted. 

If he had never left the island, Oliver knew that he would never have met Felicity.

TW/A

Stiles dropped heavily onto Felicity’s couch with a groan, wincing as his ribs throbbed in protest at the movement. Beside him, Felicity plopped down bonelessly, leaning back against the cushions with a moan.

“I am so glad I wore sensible shoes today. These are the most comfortable shoes i have, and my feet are still killing me.” She said to herself as Stiles let himself keel over onto his side, his head touching Felicity’s thigh. 

“I feel more tired now than I do after doing suicide runs at training,” Stiles added, wincing as his legs cramped.

“I have work tomorrow...at least you can sleep in,” Felicity protested, poking Stiles in the back. Stiles smiled cheekily up at her, happy, despite being so tired. It had been a good day...a good weekend. After spending the afternoon at the Queen mansion on Saturday, Felicity and Stiles had gotten some Pizza on the way home and had a movie night, re-watching all of their favourite Disney movies from their childhood. Then, after a lazy start, they had gotten up, got dressed, and headed out into the city. They had breakfast at a little cafe near the Queen Consolidated tower, before Felicity became tour guide for the day, escorting Stiles to all the places she knew Stiles would want to see. They had visited a couple of the tourist attractions that were still open after the earthquake, as well as the central shopping area. Felicity had taken Stiles to the best comic book store in the city, much to the teens pleasure...Felicity didn’t want to think about how much overweight her brother’s suitcase would be when it came time to send him back home.

Still, they had walked for miles, or at least, it felt like they had, with the nonstop walking and exploring they had done.

“I have no plans for moving for at least the next twenty hours,” Stiles declared, before he broke off to yawn, “I don’t think I could get up again, even if I wanted to. I am so glad that we had dinner before we came home, because I seriously don’t think I can move, even for food.”

“Wow, you must be tired,” Felicity laughed, although she felt exactly the same way. If Stiles wasn’t already sleeping on the couch, she would have already stretched out and gone to sleep. As it was, she kicked off her shoes and put her feet up on the coffee table, stretching out her calf muscles and finding the television remote. She switched the TV on.

“Do you have any preference?” she asked. Stiles shook his head, so Felicity left it on the channel the TV was on already. A nature documentary about wolves was showing, and Stiles was watching it with a surprising amount of interest. She didn’t say anything though. Moments of silence with Stiles were rare, and should be cherished, as John always used to say. 

“I didn’t know you were interested in wolves?” Felicity asked after a lengthy, although comfortable, pause. 

Stiles blinked, “It’s been a recent thing,” he confessed, “they just...they’re so loyal to each other, you know...I mean...their pack and their pack’s land is their world. Nothing exists outside of it.”

“Is this about you and dad fighting more recently?” Felicity asked, wondering what was going on in her brother’s head.

“No,” Stiles replied, and Felicity guessed he was telling the truth and dropped it, not having the energy to try and coax some answers out of her brother. Felicity knew that Stiles had inherited their mother’s stubbornness and determination, but she had learned patience from the most patient man in world in her stepdad. Eventually the truth would come out...all Felicity had to do was wait.

TW/A

Felicity’s alarm the next morning burst into life far too early for Felicity’s liking. She quickly shut it off, knowing how cranky Stiles got when he didn’t get enough sleep, and rolled off her bed with a groan. She stumbled to her feet and staggered to the bathroom, hoping a nice hot shower would wake her up. 

Once she was showered and dressed in her typical work clothing of a skirt and a nice shirt, she moved into the main living area of the apartment. Stiles was snoring away from where he slept on the couch, his mouth hanging open with a bit of drool hanging out. Felicity snorted and snapped a picture on her phone, planning on sending it to John once it was a sensible time of day in Beacon Hills.

A glance at the clock told Felicity that she had time to have breakfast at home, and she quickly prepared a bowl of muesli and a cup of coffee. She perched up on her kitchen bench and ate, mentally going through the list of jobs she had for the day. Monday was always a busy day for her, given all the updates that she programmed to take place on the weekend when the computers weren’t being used. There was always some problem that arose from the updates...even if it was just showing some departmental head how to use a new program or something. 

Hmm...Coffee?” Stiles slurred from the couch. Felicity snorted.

‘Not going to happen, Stiles. You know what coffee does to you and your Adderal,” Felicity rolled her eyes. 

Stiles moaned, “You suck,” he told her. Felicity knew he was joking, but she was tired, had a lot of tedious work ahead of her, and her coffee hadn’t kicked in yet.

“May I remind you that I’m letting you live with me? It’s not like I have to. I don’t have to do what your dad wants me to, not anymore. If I wasn’t here where would you go, Stiles?” Felicity yelled, although the moment she realised what she was saying Felicity snapped her jaw shut, and whipped around, looking at Stiles where he lay on the couch, a hurt look written across his face.

“Stiles I...I’m sorry, okay...I didn’t mean that. I’m just tired and I’ve got a long day ahead of me. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you though. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay...i’m fine,” Stiles shrugged, even though Felicity knew that he was only saying it to please her. Suddenly not very hungry, Felicity set her bowl aside and approached the couch. Stiles had pulled himself upright, wincing as the movement jostled his still healing ribs, before she pulled him into a gentle hug.

‘I’m sorry, buddy, okay. I was wrong to say that...you know you’re always welcome here if you need to get away from Beacon Hills or...whatever it is that’s bothering you...even if it’s dad. Just...just let him know where you’re going first, before he starts a nationwide man hunt...and you know he would if you went missing..

Stiles let out a snort, “yeah, he would,” he agreed, “anyway, you should go to work...I’ll cook dinner tonight, if you want.”

“Sounds great...just try to not burn my apartment down.”

“Oh come on, that was only once...and I was seven...give me a break.” Stiles protested with a grin, and Felicity laughed, rising to her feet and putting away her breakfast dishes, having finished her coffee. 

“I’ll call when I’m about to leave the office, but it won’t be before 6,” She told him as she picked up her back. Stiles snuggled back down on the couch, obviously planning to get some more sleep.

“”Okay...see you later.” Stiles yawned sleepily. Felcity rolled her eeys, before she let herself out of her apartment and locked the door securely .behind her.

TW/A

Felicity let out a sigh of relief as she finally made it to her landing. The lift hadn’t been working when she’d gotten to her building, so she’d had to take the stairs, which wouldn’t normally be an issue, but her day had turned out even worse than she had expected, and now she was exhausted.

She walked down the corridor that led to her apartment yawning sleepily, until she froze, her eyes falling on her apartment door. Even at a distance she could tell that it wasn’t closed properly, and she could see some splintering around the lock. She immediately pulled out her phone and hit her third speed dial.

“Oliver,” she said the moment the phone was answered, “I think my apartment has been broken into.”

“Felicity?” Oliver asked in concern, “what makes you think that?”

“The door’s ajar, and the lock looks like it was kicked in...Oh my God...Stiles.”

“Felicity no,” Oliver ordered, but Felicity raced forward, pushing the door open. The apartment was dark, and she fumbled for the light switch.

“Felicity, I’m on my way, okay,” Oliver said into her ear as she found the switch and flicked it, the sudden light burning her retinas. Felicity glanced around the apartment, and felt her blood run cold, and her chest begin to tighten in the beginnings of a panic attack...just like the ones Stiles used to get after their mother’s death.

‘Oliver,” she croaked, “there’s blood everywhere...and I can’t see him. I can’t see my brother...Where’s Stiles?”


	7. Chapter 7

Officer Quentin Lance hated missing person’s cases.  He always had, even before he lost Sara when the Queen’s Gambit went down, but now he disliked them even more.  The pain of not having a body to bury... not having any closure...not knowing what had happened... could destroy anyone.  Who was he kidding...it had destroyed him.

 

He looked at the young blonde sitting on the couch, clutching a tissue; a shock blanket draped around her shoulders, and felt sympathy well up for her as he looked over the scene again.

 

Normally Quentin wouldn’t be too worried yet.  Teenagers nicked off all the time, but this was no ordinary case of a missing teenager.  For one, the kid in question’s older sister was in league with the Green Arrow. 

 

Quentin had been surprised when the phone he used to contact the archer started ringing that evening, but he had wasted no time answering it.  The arrow usually didn’t contact him unless it was an emergency, and Quentin didn’t want to face another Glades situation.

 

“Officer Lance,” the archer had begun, “There’s been a kidnapping.  Felicity Smoak’s younger brother is missing...I need you to get there as soon as possible.”

 

Quentin had rushed out of his apartment and driven, sirens blaring, to the address he had been given by the vigilante.  The archer was already there when Quentin arrived, holding Felicity in a tight hug, rubbing her back reassuringly, although Quentin had caught his eye.  They both knew that, judging from the amount of blood on the ground, the kid wouldn’t be in a great condition...if he was even still alive.

 

The blood was the other difference from most other cases of teenagers going missing.  Most teens didn’t go missing from a scene where there had obviously been some sort of struggle and a fight.  Quentin and the Arrow had followed the blood trail through the apartment into Felicity’s bedroom, and to the window connecting to the fire escape, which was open.

 

“Have you pissed anyone off lately that would do something like this...target an innocent kid?” Quentin asked the Arrow, who shook his head.  Even though he couldn’t see the vigilante’s features, Quentin could see that the archer was being affected by the kidnapping.  He put a reassuring hand on the other man’s shoulder.

 

“We’ll do all we can.  I know we’ve already called 911, but I’ll get myself put on the case.  Between the two of us, we’ll get him back.”

 

“Will we?” the vigilante said in a defeated, though hushed tone, “You know just as well as I do the chances of getting him back alive.  He doesn’t deserve this.  He knows nothing...he had no involvement in this...he’s not even from Starling City.”

 

 Quentin could hear the frustration in the vigilante’s voice, “Have you met him before?” he asked, “outside of the uniform?”

 

“Yes...a few times, since he came to the city,” The vigilante told him, “but never like this.”

 

Quentin knew what the masked man was saying.  The kid...Stiles... had met the archer’s daytime persona, whoever that might be, but hadn’t met the masked one who roamed the city and threatened those who had wronged it.  Quentin let out a sigh as he felt his concern for the teenager increase.  It sounded like he really did know nothing about the vigilante.  Quentin only prayed that whoever it was that had taken the kid wasn’t looking for information about the vigilante.  No-matter what torture he endured, Stiles would be able to answer any questions...which could lead to the kidnappers becoming angry and frustrated and...and more bad things happening to the kid.

 

“Go, start looking...I’ll do what I can here.”

 

“Look after Felicity,” the man in the hood requested, before he was gone, disappearing out the window into the night as if he was never there.  Quentin walked back to the living room and put a hand on Felicity’s shoulder.

 

“We’ll find him...between your masked friend and Starling City Police Department we’ll turn this town upside down until we find him.”

 

Felicity looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears, “I know you’ll find him...between you and the vigilante, I know Stiles is going to get found...but I’m scared that it’s not going to be until it’s too late.  I can’t lose my baby brother.”

 

Quentin sighed, knowing that Felicity was within her rights to be scared.  She knew too much about Starling City’s underbelly to be comforted by him.  The only thing that was going to make her feel better was seeing her brother again, life and relatively uninjured.

 

With every minute that passed, however, Quentin doubted more and more that it would ever happen.

 

TW/A

 

Felicity stared blankly at the screen of her laptop, her gaze unfocused and distant.  She was blind to all around her, and Oliver was willing to bet that she didn’t even know that he and Diggle were watching her.

 

Diggle had been watching over Felicity ever since she stumbled down the stairs to the underground lair of the hood.  Oliver had still been out combing the city for clues when she had arrived in the early hours of the morning, once the police had finished collecting evidence from her apartment. 

  
Felicity’s phone sat on the desk beside her, plugged in to a spare power point so that it would stay charged up.  Oliver instinctively knew she was keeping it with her just in case Lance found Stiles and called her to tell her that her brother was okay, but so far the phone was silent.

 

“Has she even moved since she got here?” Oliver asked, his voice thick with concern. 

 

Diggle shook his head, “No...she’s got the computer scanning the city cell towers for any sign of tracking Stiles’ phone.  It hasn’t been working because his phones turned off, and she can’t turn it on remotely...whoever took Stiles probably took the battery out, or they smashed the phone or something, but just in case it goes back on the gird, we’ll know about it.”

 

Oliver nodded, “Has she spoken to her step dad?”

 

“Yes,” Diggle commented, “she rang him not long after she got here, confirming what time he was arriving in the city.  Officer Lance is going to pick him up from the airport at eight o’clock...it was the first flight that he could get on from Sacramento.”

 

“I wonder how he’s doing?” Oliver mused quietly.

 

“Not too well I imagine.  From what I overheard from when he called earlier he’s distraught.  He’s a Sherriff I guess...he knows the odds aren’t in the kid’s favour.” Diggle sighed, rubbing a weary hand over his eyes, “how did the search go?”   

  

Oliver shook his head, “I couldn’t find anything, they didn’t leave a trail, and I couldn’t find any clues the police missed.  Tomorrow night if Stiles hasn’t turned up I’m going to ask Roy if he’s heard anything...he’s got more contacts in the glades than I will ever have.   I’m glad that Lance is on the case...he’ll keep looking until we find Stiles, despite what he thinks of me.”

 

“Wonder how the kid is doing?” Diggle mused, “Probably scared out of his wits.”

 

Oliver nodded in agreement, before he let out a sigh, “go home, Dig, he said in a soft voice, “get some sleep...it’s going to be a long day...I’ll stay with Felicity.

 

“You sure?” Diggle asked.  Oliver nodded in replay, and Diggle gathered his jacket and left the basement.  Felicity stirred at the movement.

 

“It’s okay, Felicity, Diggle’s just going to get some rest so he’s wide awake tomorrow,” Oliver reassured, and Felicity relaxed in her seat.

 

“If it was a ransom they would have called by now, wouldn’t they?” she said, and Oliver could tell from the catch in Felicity’s voice that she had been crying.

 

“Not always,” Oliver said, “it’s late, they might be waiting for the morning.”

 

“Obviously they’ve never had a member of their family go missing.  This not knowing...this waiting...it’s killing me, Oliver.” She looked over her shoulder at him, and Oliver was at her side in a moment, crouching down in front of her and pulling her into a tight hug.  Felicity didn’t hesitate before she reciprocated the hug, clinging onto Oliver’s arms she lowered her head to his leather clad shoulder as she lost control and began sobbing.  Oliver rubbed her back reassuringly.

 

“We’re going to do everything we can, Felicity.  I promise, we won’t stop until we find him.”

 

“I’m scared, Oliver,” Felicity admitted, “What if something happens to him.  He’s the last piece of my mom I’ve got left...I can’t lose him.  Stiles is my baby brother, I have to look after him.”

 

“I know, Felicity,” Oliver nodded, “I can’t think of what it would be like if it was Thea that was missing.”

 

“You need to find him, Oliver...I don’t know what I’m going to do.  I know I haven’t spent time with Stiles in ages, and we haven’t lived together in six years, but we email all the time, and I call him a lot, especially after I’ve had a bad day.  He doesn’t deserve this.  Oliver, if he got taken because somebody figured out the connection between the vigilante and me...he’s dead.  My little brother will be dead, and it’ll be because of me.”

 

“No...it’ll be because of me,” Oliver corrected, “I should have protected you more...and Stiles as well, but I promise you, I will do that I can to get him back for you...and I understand if you don’t want to be involved in this anymore.  I should never have got you involved in the first place.”

 

“No,” Felicity shook her head, her voice strengthening with resolve, “I couldn’t do that.  Not to the people of Starling City.  No offence, but you need all the help you can get at the moment.  Stiles...Stiles would have supported what we do here...he’s a bit crazy about superheroes...he always has been.  If I stopped helping you protect the people of Starling city because of him Stiles would be so pissed.”

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before.’ Oliver smirked, and Felicity quirked an eyebrow.

 

“Trust me...you didn’t know me in my college days...or when I’m alone in the mainframe room at work.”

 

A sudden noise from Felicity’s computer made both Oliver and Felicity jump, and Felicity whirled around, spinning her chair so fast Oliver had to quickly get his head out of the way.

 

“Somebody switched Stiles’ phone on,” she exclaimed, tapping rapidly on the keys, “I’m starting to trace where it is.”

 

Oliver got to his feet and leaned over Felicity’s shoulder, glancing at the map.

 

“Tell me when you get a location,” he told her, before he grabbed his bow and hurried out.  Felicity bounced nervously in her seat, her hands clasped to her mouth.

 

“Come on...come on,” she begged as the computers worked to find the exact location of Stiles’’ phone.

 

A message popped up on her screen, and her jaw dropped.  Stiles’ phone was making a call.  Felicity looked at the number.  It wasn’t hers, or Oliver’s, or Diggle’s...or even Quentin Lance’s number.  It didn’t look like Scott’s number, and it certainly wasn’t John’s number.  Felicity didn’t recognise the number.  It was another mobile phone, but that was all she could tell.  She pulled up another screen and quickly tapped in the new number into her laptop, hoping she could find out where it came from.

 

“Talk to me Felicity,” Oliver’s voice came through her ear piece, and Felicity jumped, startled.

 

“The phone...it’s making a call.  I’m seeing if I can piggyback into the connection and find whoever it is Stiles...or whoever has his phone is calling.  Stiles’ phone...it’s in the glades...in the...you know, earthquake area.”

 

Oliver swore, and Felicity could hear Oliver’s motorbike roaring as he accelerated.  Her computer beeped, and Felicity looked at the screen displaying a map of the glades, a red flashing light showing where Stiles’ phone was.  She rattled the address off to Oliver, before she broke off; biting her lip in frustration when the call between Stiles’ phone and the other phone ended, and Stiles’ phone abruptly got turned off.  Felicity swallowed, hoping that whoever was using Stiles’ phone would make another call.

 

“I’m five minutes out from there, Felicity...tell me if it moves.”

 

“I can’t tell anymore...whoever it was switched the phone back off after the call had finished.”

 

“How long was the call for?” Oliver asked.

 

“Less than a minute...I’m looking into the number that was called...it might give us a clue as to where Stiles has been held.”

 

“Alright...I’m almost there,” Oliver told Felicity.  Felicity held her breath, perched on the edge of the seat as she tapped on her computer keyboard, so that Oliver’s location was displayed on the same screen as the location as Stiles’ phone.  She watched with bated breath, anxiety growing within her, as the green light, drew closer to the spot the red flashing light had been. 

 

TW/A

 

Oliver carefully inched along the alleyway, stepping over rubble cautiously, his senses on high alert for any threat.

 

“Nearly there, Oliver, just a few more feet,” Felicity told him, and Oliver exhaled, stepping over what had once been a chunk of brick wall. 

 

“Felicity,” he said in a soft voice.

 

“No, Oliver, it’s there...you’re standing right in front of it...the subway doesn’t go right underneath there, and it’s in the middle of a alleyway, so it’s not like it’s on a different level.” Felicity snapped at him.

 

“Felicity...I’ve got it.  They...they’ve smashed it to pieces, but I’ve got it.”

 

“And...and Stiles...the kidnappers...anyone?” Felicity asked desperately

 

“Felicity...there’s nothing here,” Oliver told her regretfully as he slid the remains of Stiles’ phone into a plastic evidence bag.  The phone’s battery was a few feet away from the phone, and Oliver put it in a separate bag for fingerprint analysis.

 

“Are you sure...they could be hiding,” Felicity pleaded, although she knew Oliver would have checked the surroundings thoroughly for any sign of Stiles or whoever it was that had taken him, and would check everything again before he called Lance and told him the new information.

 

“Felicity...I’m sorry...they’re gone. “

 

“Is there any security cameras or anything we could run facial recognition off?”

 

“Felicity,” Oliver told her in a gentle voice, “It’s in one of the most badly damaged areas of the Glades.  There aren’t any cameras.  There’s nothing left to watch.”

 

“Except for Kidnappers making phone calls off their victim’s phone,” Felicity pouted.

 

“I’m going to have a look around, you try and focus on tracking down whoever it was that they were calling.  Whoever it was has to be involved.  Do you want me to call Diggle in?”

 

“No...no, I’ll be okay,” Felicity admitted, and  Oliver could hear the newfound resolve in Felicity’s voice.  Both he and Felicity recognized how important Diggle’s family was to him, neither of them wanted to pull him away from that any more than they did already.

 

“You tell me if you find anything, alright?” Oliver ordered as he began to look around more carefully, keeping an eye out for any people that might see him.

 

Felicity sighed, “you too,” she told Oliver, before they commenced radio silence, both absorbed in their tasks.  Felicity let out a victorious whoop when her computer let out a beep, and her screen was flooded with information.  She scanned the screen quickly, and her mouth dropped.

 

‘What is it, what did you find?” Oliver asked, “Felicity...what is it?”

 

“Oh God,” Felicity croaked.

 

“Felicity...tell me what you’ve found.”

 

“The phone that they called...it was just a pre paid phone from a convenience store...no details connected to it or anything.”

 

“Damn,” Oliver swore in frustration at the dead end.

 

“No...It gets worse, Oliver,” Felicity told him, shaking her head, her gaze fixed on the screen, “The phone...it was sold from a newsagency in Beacon Hills...eight months ago....someone from my home town was involved in the kidnapping.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

In Beacon Hills, Derek Hale grunted as he was awoken by a persistent ringing noise.  He growled and opened his eyes, blurrily focusing on his phone, the screen lit up, showing that Stiles was calling him.  Derek contemplated ignoring the call, before he reached out and grabbed the loudly ringing piece of plastic.  Stiles would never shut up about it if Derek started ignoring his calls, and if there was a genuine reason the teen was ringing him at ass o’clock in the morning Derek would be glad Stiles had though to contact him...even though Derek was still too far away to be of assistance if Stiles was in trouble.

 

“This better be important, Stiles...Do you have any idea what time it is?”

 

“That’s not a very nice way to answer the phone, Derek, especially considering the kid is one of your pack...even if he is just a pathertic little human.”

 

Derek’s blood ran cold at the voice on the other side of the phone call, memories flooding him.  Don Constiablo had been a werewolf that Derek had known in New York.  Power hungry and desperate to become an alpha, Don had tried to form an alliance with Laura by proposing to her, but Laura had turned him down.  Derek had fully supported her.  Don had given him the creeps.  He was middle aged, over twelve years older than Laura, but still handsome, with tanned skin and a smooth voice.  With that, however, came a vicious temper and questionable sanity.  Laura and Derek had made a point of avoiding the pack Don was part of while they were in New York, which had been made easier by the fact that other packs had offered them shelter and protection, taking pity on the orphaned Hales.

 

The idea of Stiles, trapped, helpless and so painfully human, being anywhere near Don Constiablo sent fear surging through him.

 

“Don Constiablo,” Derek scowled down the phone, “What have you done to Stiles.”

 

“Oh, I have done nothing...yet.”

 

“Don’t you touch him.”

 

“Or what, you’ll bare your teeth at me?  You’re not the only one who’s become an Alpha since we last met, Derek.  It was such a pity to hear about beautiful, precious Laura...If only she had said yes to me...she wouldn’t have been killed by her own uncle.”

 

“No...you would have done it instead.  You only wanted her power.” Derek growled.

  
“Well, yes...The Hales are one of the oldest werewolf lines in the country.  The Alpha of the Hale pack is a position that commands respect...simply due to the power the Alpha wields.  Why do you think no-one said no to Laura when she asked for help when you both arrived in New York?”

 

“Not all werewolves are monsters like you.  You and I both know that the power of an Alpha has nothing to do with their bloodline, it depends on the size, the unity, and the strength of the pack the Alpha leads.”

 

“Oh, Derek, your mother must be so proud.  You sounded like her when you said that.  I only met her once, but Talia Hale...she did leave an impression.  Of course I know that the size of the pack is important.  How many Beta’s do you have?  Three...four maybe?  I have twenty...when the Glades collapsed there were so many poor souls to pick from...it was beautiful...so much chaos and madness...nobody thinking it was unusual that a family member was missing, just assuming that they were dead or lost in the rubble.  There’s thousands of people who are still unaccounted for.”

 

“You’re in Starling City?”

 

“Of course I am.  Imagine my surprise when I’m out and about, minding my own business, when a teenage boy...a teenaged human boy... walks by me reeking of Hale pack...of you.  Admittedly it wasn’t a recent smell, but you and your pack must have made sure he was well scented with your scent before sending him off on his little holiday.”

 

Derek froze, remembering the night before Stiles left, when the entire pack had slept over at Scott’s house, piled on the living room floor, Stiles in the middle, completely surrounded by the pack.  The whole point had been to make sure Stiles’ scent would be mixed with theirs, it had been instinctive once they knew that Stiles would be going away during the summer, a innate reflex to want to make sure the member of the pack that would be travelling would carry the scent of the pack wherever they went.  Now the gesture had come back to haunt them.

 

“What do you want?”

 

“Want...why Derek, I would have thought it was obvious.  The Hale’s have some of the best territory in northern California...a few too many hunters for my liking, but territory is territory.  If I don’t get it, well, I have your boy here.  I’ll take my territory out of him, before I cut him into little bits and send them back to you...and I’ll be sure to send some to Daddy Dearest too...and make sure he and the hunters know whose fault it is the kid is dead.”

 

“If I give you my territory, what’s going to happen to the rest of the pack?”

 

“They face a choice, join me, exile from the hometown I’m sure they all love...or I will tear their throats out of their skinny little necks...and then I’ll start of their families...and those hunters of course...I can’t leave them wandering around picking off members of my pack...not that you’d mind that I imagine, knowing what certain members of the Argent family have done to you in the past.  I’ll expect your reply in person in twenty four hours.  If you’re not here by then to transfer your lands to me, well, Stiles gets to find out what it’s like to travel with the US postal service.”

 

Don hung up, and Derek stared at the phone.  A soft noise from the doorway made him whip around.  Isaac stood in Derek’s bedroom doorway, wearing a t-shirt and a pair of Derek’s old boxers, his skin pale in the moonlight that shone through Derek’s window.  Derek knew from the teenager’s wide eyes and fearful expression that Isaac had heard the conversation.

 

‘Derek...what’s going on?” Isaac asked fearfully.  Derek tossed his phone onto the bed and slid out from under the covers, getting to his feet, his figures shifting to his beta form.  Isaac took a nervous step back, sensing Derek’s rage

 

“Call Allison, Lydia and Danny.  Pack meeting...now...I don’t care what they need to do, they just need to get here,” Derek ordered, moving to the window and easing it open, before he clambered out and scaled the wall until he was on the roof of the loft that was serving as pack headquarters.  Derek was planning on rebuilding the Hale house, and had even begun to sketch out plans, but for now, the loft was their base.

 

Once he reached the roof top Derek stopped, hoping that what he was about to do wouldn’t attract the attention of any hunters that Gerard had brought in that hadn’t left town yet, before he threw his head back and howled, long and hard, summoning every member of the pack to him.

 

Derek howled until he needed to breathe, and then he stopped and listened.  Counting in his head as short, answering howls replied his, Isaac didn’t respond, naturally, and Derek hadn’t expected him to, since he was just downstairs.  Surprisingly, however, it was Scott who answered back, an urgency in his howl that made Derek frown. 

 

Erica and Boyd were the next to reply, followed by Peter, and then Jackson.  Derek could almost hear Jackson rolling his eyes in his howl, and resolved to make sure to break a few of the arrogant teen’s bones the next time they trained.      

 

Derek climbed back down to his window and re-entered his room, quickly getting dressed before he went downstairs at the same time that Peter strolled casually through the door, followed shortly by Scott, who looked a little panicked.

 

“Is this about Stiles,” he asked, and Derek growled.

 

‘What do you know?”

 

“His dad rang up my mom a few hours ago and asked if she could keep an eye on his house for him.  Stiles was kidnapped from his sister’s flat yesterday afternoon.  The Sherriff has gone to Starling City to help the police look.  My mom only told me when she heard you howling...she thought you had somehow found out.” Scott explained.

 

“Well...I did.” Derek growled as Erica and Boyd walked in.  Derek could hear the distinctive roar of Jackson’s Porsche as it approached, as well as the sound of Allison’s car not too far away.

 

Jackson had picked up Danny along the way, and Allison and Lydia arrived together, Lydia still managing to look presentable even though Derek was certain Isaac had woken her up.  Not even half an hour had passed and everyone was there.

 

“What’s going on?” Danny asked curiously, breaking the silence in the large warehouse.  Derek leaned forward against the large table .

 

“Stiles has been kidnapped from his sister’s apartment...his dad has already headed for Starling City to help with the search,” Scott replied, “They didn’t say on the phone if there was any suspects...The Sherriff though it must have been a random attack, I mean, Stiles doesn’t know anyone in Starling City, and it’s not like anyone would grab him to get to Felicity.  She’s just a tech specialist...no offence Danny.”

 

“None taken,” Danny offered

 

“Stiles being taken wasn’t a random, attack,” Derek growled, “He’s been taken by an Alpha.  Laura and I knew him when we were in New York.  He wasn’t an Alpha then, but he was hungry for the power.”

 

“Who?” Peter asked

 

“Don Constiablo,” Derek replied, and Peter swore under his breath and ran his fingers through his hair.

 

“What the hell did you do to piss him off?” Peter asked Derek.

 

“It wasn’t me.  Laura turned him down when he asked her to marry him.  She knew he only wanted the power, and we were managing fine without being allied to the pack he was in.”

 

“Who is this guy?” Scott asked, looking from Peter to Derek in confusion.

 

“He’s a born wolf, the Constiablos are one of the oldest werewolf families in recent history.  Not as much land or as respected as us, but they’re wealthy and ruthless.  Don Constaiblo was the younger son of the alpha when I first met him, and already he was vicious.  He considers werewolves to be superior to humans and he won’t think twice about killing a human, or anyone who protects one he wants dead.  Since I’ve been out of the coma I’ve been doing my research.  Don Constiablo murdered both his father and his older brother in their sleep to become Alpha, and shifted his pack from New York.  No one knew where they had moved to.”

 

“Now we do...Starling City.  He has Stiles, and is threatening to kill him if his demands aren’t met.” Derek told the assembled pack

 

“What demands?  We’ve got to do what he says...We have to save Stiles,” Scott exclaimed.  Derek avoided the eyes of the pack, so Isaac spoke up.

 

“He said that Derek has to go to Starling City within 24 hours and hand over all Hale pack lands.  Derek’s pack gets to choose if they want to join Constaiblo’s pack, exile, or death...and if we refuse to join him he kills any family that any of us have...then he’s going to kill the Argents for existing.”

 

“But Stiles will be alive, right?” Scott asked.  Derek shook his head.

 

“You don’t know this man, Scott.  If I go there to hand over my land, I would probably also be going to see Stiles’ execution.  His word cannot be trusted.”

 

“Derek is right.  Stiles was dead the moment Constiablo got his claws on him.” Peter sighed.

 

“You’re...you’re giving up on him?” Scot stammered, dropping down onto a seat.  Allison was at his side in a instant, a reassuring hand on his shoulder.”

 

“Well...” Peter began.

 

‘No...we’re not.  Stiles is pack...and I refuse to lose another pack mate.  I’m going to Starling City and I’m getting him back...whatever it takes.  Even if it means handing Beacon Hills over to him.”

 

“What does handing over Pack Lands entail?” Lydia asked.

 

“It’s a ritual.  Derek will make a blood agreement with Constiablo...and then Constiablo kills Derek.  It’ll automatically make him Alpha of all Hale territories.”      

 

“You mean, Derek dies?” Isaac asked in a soft voice, inching closer to Derek. 

 

Derek nodded, “If that’s what it takes.”

 

Isaac, Boyd and Erica surged forward, latching onto Derek.  Derek remained motionless, but Scott could still see the pain on the Alpha’s face. 

 

“I’ll go with you.  You’ve got a better chance at getting Stiles out without getting killed with back up,” Scott declared

 

“Me too,” Isaac chimed in.

 

“You’re not leaving me behind.  I’ve got to rescue my Batman,” Erica told them, her voice thick with resolve.  Boyd nodded in agreement

 

“Stiles would die for any of us; Jackson and I are in...and Jackson can organise for us to get there or back...his dad has a plane.”

 

“I...what?” Jackson looked at Lydia in shock.  Lydia quirked her eyebrow at the former Kanima, wordlessly daring him to argue.

 

“Fine,” Jackson grumbled, giving in.

 

“I’m going too...and I’ll tell Dad to be on the lookout for any strange werewolves in town...even though we’re retired,” Allison put in.

 

“This sounds a bit over my head,” Danny admitted, and Derek nodded.

 

“That’s fine, you’ve only known about this for a few weeks.  I need you to get things ready.  If this goes badly, and I get killed and Constiablo claims these lands, and I’m assuming none of you want to join his pack,” everyone shook their heads, “you’re going to need to be ready to run.”

 

“What do we need?” Danny asked, “Fake Ids, car registrations...high school diplomas?”

 

“Shouldn’t be needed,” Derek shook his head, “Once you all cross out of Hale pack territory Constiablo shouldn’t have any reason to follow you.  Family that don’t know about werewolves should be left alone as well.  I’ll make it a condition, if it comes to that.”

 

“What about parents that do know about all this?” Scott asked.

 

“Your mom will need to get ready to run as well.” Derek admitted “Allison’s dad as well.  Since he’s already in Starling City the Sherriff might be at risk as well.  Peter, if the worst happens, you’re in charge of getting Chris, Melissa and Danny out of town.  Tell Deaton what’s going on once it gets light, he is technically the Hale pack emissary, he’ll be a target as well.  Constiablo has a far larger pack than this, but most of them have only been turned recently from what I’ve heard, since the earthquake in Starling City.”

  
“We’ll be able to take them...we’ve trained hard.” Isaac boasted confidently. 

 

Derek shook his head, “Don’t be over confident.  While he doesn’t know much about us, we know little about him and his pack...where they have Stiles, how many he has in the pack, how well trained they are...and we’re not going to be able to do much to solve that particular problem, so we’re just going to have to be very very careful.”

 

The wolves nodded in agreement, and Derek sighed, before turning to Jackson.

 

‘How long will it take you to organise this plane?”

 

“We’ll be there by lunchtime,” Jackson said confidently.

 

“Maybe we’ll be able to go to that Diner, the one Stiles was talking about the last time I spoke to him, while we sort out what we’re going to do.” Scott suggested.

 

“Jackson, organise the flights,” Derek ordered, “Everyone else, go get packed, enough gear to get you through at least a few days, or a week.  Remember that you might need to get out very quickly, and you’re not going to be able to come back home.  Peter...”

 

“Make sure the Camaro is out of pack lands...got it.” Peter replied, knowing what Derek was going to say.

 

“Stiles’ jeep too” Scott added, “He’ll kill me if anything happens to Betsy.”

 

“Forget Stilinski’s stupid jeep...what about my Porsche?” Jackson argued.  Peter rolled his eyes at the teenagers.

 

“Don’t worry, Jackson, I’ll take care of your car,” Danny reassured Jackson   

 

“Boys,” Lydia huffed with a eye roll, and Erica and Allison giggled as they got to their feet.  The rest of the pack followed their lead, and Scott, Boyd, Erica, Lydia, Jackson and Allison headed out, going home to pack their bags., and Isaac headed upstairs to his room. 

 

Peter approached Derek, “You know...he might be dead already.  Contiablo isn’t known for being gentle of captives.”

 

Derek growled, “He’s not dead.”

 

“How do you know?” Peter pushed

 

“If he were dead...I’d know.  I’d feel it.” Derek snapped, looking at his uncle with red eyes.  Peter backed off, recognizing a warning when he saw one.

 

“You really do consider him to be a member of the pack, don’t you?”

 

“Yes,” Derek growled

 

“Maybe you should tell him that one day” Peter suggested, before he left the warehouse, leaving Derek standing alone beside the table, lost in his thoughts.


	9. Chapter 9

Stiles moaned as he regained consciousness, his body throbbing in pain.  He was lying on his side, his hands tied behind his back, and his feet tied together with thick rope.  His ribs were screaming in agony, and Stiles could feel that his face was covered in dried blood from the gash he had sustained when he had first been captured. The fact that he was lying on a hard, concrete floor, tied up, told Stiles that he whole thing hadn’t just been a nightmare triggered by his abduction by Gerard a few weeks before.  No...Unless he was still sleeping, and Sties was certain he wouldn’t hurt this much if he was sleeping, then he had been captured, and hadn’t yet been rescued.

 

“Ah, I see our guest has awoken,” a smooth voice said from over him, and Stiles blearily opened his eyes, looking up at the man who stood over him.  No...not a man, although the figure itself was almost certainly male.  The red eyes and the fangs immediately told Stiles that he was dealing with a werewolf, and an Alpha werewolf at that.  Stiles mentally swore, guessing that this werewolf would not be as friendly as the ones he spent most of his time with.

 

Which was saying quite a lot, since Derek still liked to push Stiles into walls from time to time, and Jackson liked using his strength to make sure Stiles was well aware of the fact that he was merely human, and not a werewolf, and therefore not a member of the pack.

 

Of course, because of what Gerard had done to him, the werewolves had been very gentle with Stiles recently (Jackson was the exception), but Stiles knew that it wouldn’t last, especially now that he was well down the path to healing.

 

“What, no greeting...Your Alpha mustn’t have given you a very good lesson when it comes to your manners...your mother must be so disappointed in you, Stiles...or would you prefer Genim?”

 

“How do you know my name?” Stiles asked hoarsely.  The werewolf laughed and held up Stiles’ wallet.  Stiles knew that his licence had his real name on it, but he had a photo of him and Scott in it from a few years ago, and Melissa had written ‘Scott and Stiles’ and the date the photo had been taken on the back of the photo.

 

“Tell me, was that taken before or after you joined the Hale Pack?”

 

“I’m, not a member of the pack,” Stiles told the wolf, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.  What the hell is an alpha...is this some weird colledge fraternity prank...kidnap the teenaged tourist? What the hell is with your eyes, dude?  Are you on drugs?”

 

The werewolf laughed, and the sound made the hairs on the back of Stiles’ neck stand up and fear course through Stiles’ body.

 

“Oh, come on Stiles, you know werewolves can tell when you’re telling a lie, and you just told me one.  I think you know well what I’m talking about...and I also can tell that you are a member of the Hale Pack...even if you don’t seem to believe that.  You would not smell so strongly of them even though you have been in Starling City for so long if you were not considered by them to be a member of the pack.”

 

Stiles briefly wondered how the werewolf knew when he arrived in Starling City, before he remembered that the plane ticket from the day he travelled to Starling city was still stuffed in his wallet.

 

“Didn’t your mom tell you it was rude to go through other people’s wallets?” Stiles asked, “Besides, you know who I am, I don’t know who you are.”

 

“Of course, how rude of me, I apologise.  My name is Don Constiablo.  I am the Alpha over most of Starling City.” 

 

“I would say it’s been a pleasure to meet you...but it really hasn’t.” Stiles scowled.

 

“Ah, Stiles.  You have no idea how much trouble you are in.  You see, I know your precious Alpha, Derek.  He and Laura and I go quite a long way back.  You really should know better than to have gotten involved in werewolf matters, Stiles.  It never ends well for humans that run with werewolf packs.  Derek’s just been deluding himself, and you, into thinking that you would be safe.  I’m going to prove him wrong.”

 

“Yeah, how are you going to do that?” Stiles spat.  The werewolf smirked, and another figure stepped up beside him, a crowbar in his hands.  Stiles swallowed.  This wasn’t going to end well.

 

“By hurting you,” Don Constiablo told Stiles, before the other man brought the crowbar swinging down, hard, and Stiles’ world erupted in pain.

 

TW/A

 

“Told you I would get us here by lunchtime,” Jackson boasted as the pack walked into the diner that Scott had led them to.

 

“Yes, well done,” Erica rolled her eyes, ‘It’s not as if you actually flew the plane or something.”

 

Scott gave a weak smile at Erica’s joke, the most he could muster, before he frowned and dropped his gaze again.  Derek could sense the teen’s emotions.  Scott was terrified that he wouldn’t see Stiles alive again, and he was blaming himself for what had happened.  Derek understood how Scott felt, he felt exactly the same way.  Derek knew the pack would never fully recover if something happened to Stiles.  Even though Stiles wasn’t a werewolf Derek considered the teen to be his second in command.  All of the pack looked up to Stiles and trusted him, even Jackson.  If one of the Betas had an issue, and didn’t want to go to Derek with it, they went to Stiles.  Stiles was the one that Derek himself went to if he needed help, and Stiles was by far the one that knew the most about werewolves and the supernatural in the pack (except for Peter), thanks to the hours of research he did in order to help the pack.

 

“What do we do now?” Scott asked once the pack was seated at a booth in a secluded corner of the room.  The entire pack turned their eyes to Derek, leaving Derek struck by how painfully young they all looked, looking at him, hope in their eyes, trusting that he would know what to do in order to save Stiles.

 

Realistically, Derek knew that there was a good chance Stile’s rescue rode on his shoulders.  He was the only one who had any experience with wolves other than pack mates, including tracking them.  Sure, there had been days spent out in the woods trying to track one another (Isaac and Boyd were by far better at it than Scott, Erica and Jackson), but Derek shuddered at the thought of any of his pack coming up against an experienced wolf from Constiablo’s pack...or even worse, Constiablo himself.

 

“Scott...do you still have that piece of paper with Felicity’s address on it?”

 

“Yes,” Scott said, pulling the slip of paper out of his wallet and passing it to Derek, who glanced at it, memorising it.

 

“I’ll start here,” Derek began, tapping the slip of paper, “and follow Stiles’ scent.  They’ve got to be holding him somewhere in the city.  I want you guys to break up into groups and have a look around.  Because of the quake there are a lot of abandoned building and warehouses that Constiablo could be using.  Constiablo will have someone watching Felicity’s house, and I imagine once I make an appearance there I’m going to be met with by some of Constiablo’s Betas.  They’ll probably take me to wherever it is they’re holding Stiles.  Isaac, Boyd...do you two feel confident to enough to follow my scent through a city that you don’t know?”

 

Boyd and Isaac nodded, and Derek studied them.

 

“Remember, this is the city, not the preservation.  There will be different smells, there will certainly be other wolves around.  You have to concentrate on my scent.  Be aware of your surroundings.  If you think you’re being followed, you probably are.  Once I’m at wherever they take me, keep your distance until the others arrive.”

 

“We need a signal...for when we’re ready...howling is too obvious.” Scott pointed out.  Derek was reasonably sure that Cobnstiablo and his pack would know that Derek’s betas were there regardless of whether or not they howled, but he said nothing.

 

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Lydia put in, “while we were flying over.  I think I’ve got a solution.”

 

Lydia pulled a bottle of perfume out of her purse, “because of the earthquake there is a lot of broken windows around, right?’

 

Derek, Scott and Isaac nodded.  Jackson and Erica had already twigged on Lydia’s plan.

 

“Of course,” Erica smiled.

 

“Er...I don’t get it.” Isaac admitted sheepishly. 

 

“Jackson...if I smashed this, how far away would you be able to smell it, if you were inside and this was outside, but the windows were open...or smashed.”

 

“at least fifty metres,” Jackson told her, “Probably more like 100...that stuff stinks.”

 

“Right...the way I see it, Constiablo are going to be waiting for a werewolf sign, like howling or...I don’t know, scent marking.  Nobody will suspect a subtle scent of flowers and ocean breeze on a moonlit night.” Lydia said, quoting the description from the perfume bottle.

 

“I think Stiles has had an influence on her,” Scott whispered to Isaac, causing Allison and Erica to snort in amusement, while Jackson scowled at Scott for inferring Stiles had influenced Lydia’s behaviour in any way.

 

“It’s a good plan,” Derek praised Lydia as a waitress with a kind, motherly smile, approached the pack.

 

“Hi...what can I get you guys?’ she asked cheerfully.  Knowing that they needed to keep their strength up, the pack knew that they needed to eat something...even if they didn’t really feel like eating, knowing what they did about what Stiles was going through.

 

One by one they put their orders in, Lydia rolling her eyes at the amount of food the werewolves ordered.  Scott made sure to order some of the curly fries that Stiles had told him were almost as good as the ones back in Beacon Hills, and Lydia and Allison gave him penetrating looks.

 

“What?” Scott said, “We came here all the way from Beacon Hills to save Stiles...the least we could do is eat some of his favourite food.”

 

None of the pack noticed as the waitress finished scribbling out their order and quietly withdrew, the smile falling from her face the moment her back was turned.  She headed towards the kitchen counter and put the order up with all the others, before she tapped the other waitress that was working on the arm.

 

“I’m going to take my break now,”

 

“OK, Carly...is something wrong,”

 

“Not at all. I just need to call John about something.”

 

“Alright then” the waitress smiled.  Carly took off her apron and ducked into the kitchen, where her handbag had been stored that morning when she had started her shift.  She pulled out her phone, and then ducked into the alleyway at the back of the diner, hitting number two on her speed dial.  The phone rang four times before it was answered.

 

“Hey Carly, what’s up?” she heard her brother in law ask.

 

“Hey, John...listen, has your friend’s brother turned up yet?”

 

“No...why?”

 

“His name...it’s Stiles...isn’t it?  He comes from somewhere called Beacon Hills?”  
  
“Yeah...what’s going on?  Have you seen him or something?” asked John anxiously

 

“I have a bunch of kids in the Diner.  I’ve never seen any of them before, and they were talking about a kid named Stiles, and having come from Beacon Hills.”

 

“You think they were involved in the kidnapping?” John asked her.

 

“No...they were talking about rescuing him...they might be his friends...most of them look to be about the same age as him...one of them is a little older, but other than that...they just look like normal kids.  They’re obviously scared about something, they’re very subdued, compared to what most teenagers are like during summer.”

 

Do you think you’re going to be able to get a photo of them?  Felicity might recognise some of them if they are Stiles’ friends.”

 

“Sure” Carly nodded.

 

“Okay...stay safe.”

 

“Thanks John”

 

“Thank-you for the information,” John replied, before they both hung up.  Carly slipped back inside and, leaning discreetly against the kitchen door, she took a photo of the group in their secluded corner, managing to get a good angle on all of them, even though none of them were looking at the camera.  She sent the photo to John, hoping it would be useful.  Stiles had been so polite the time John, Oliver and Felicity had brought him to the Diner...she hoped that he would be found soon.

 

TW/A

 

“Guys” Diggle said as he hung up the phone, “Carly just rang me; she said that there was a group of kids in the Diner, talking about rescuing a kid called Stiles.  They said something about coming from Beacon Hills.”

 

“It could be a coincidence,” Oliver offered.  Felicity and Diggle gave him a piercing look.

 

“With a name like Stiles...really?” Felicity reasoned.  Oliver conceded that she had a good point.

 

“Did she say what they looked like?” Oliver asked.

 

Diggle shook his head, “only that they looked to be about the same age as Stiles...with one a little older than the others.  She’s going to try and take a photo of them and send it to me.  Felicity might be able to recognise some of them.”

 

“What if they were involved in the kidnapping...we know that whoever took Stiles called someone in Beacon Hills.  Eight hours later, and a group from Beacon Hills walks into a Diner where Stiles has been before...what if they’re the ones who wanted Stiles taken.” Felicity said, getting to her feet and pacing the basement anxiously.  Diggle’s phone chimed, indicating he had a text, and he quickly brought it up as Oliver approached Felicity and brought her close to his chest, hugging her as he spoke in a soft, reassuring voice.

 

“It’s okay, we’ll find him.  The fact that whoever they are...the fact that they’re here now...it means that Stiles is still alive.  You’ve got to focus on the positive.  Stiles is like you...he’s not going to go down without a fight.”

 

Felicity sniffed and wiped her eyes with her sleeve, “you think so?”

 

“Yeah...even if he’s only half as tough as you, he’ll be putting up a fight.’

 

“Felicity...do you recognise anyone?” Diggle asked, handing over the phone.  Felicity pulled away from Oliver, straightened her glasses and looked at the screen, before she clapped her hand over her mouth.

 

“Oh my God!” she said, her eyes filling with tears again.

 

“What...who is it...who do you recognise?”

 

“Scott...Stiles’ best friend since, like, ever, and Lydia...Stiles has been in love with her since the third grade, and Jackson...Stiles has hated him since first grade...and I just realised that he and Roy look, like...identical...maybe they’re related or something...and there is Erica...she was in Stiles’ year at school.  I was her buddy when we did a mentoring thing between the elementary school and the high school.  She has epilepsy, or at least she did really bad back then...I’m not sure if that’s something you grow out of or not.  I don’t reco...wait a minute...is that...no...it can’t...OH MY GOD, it is.  That’s Derek Hale.  Wow, he got hot...not that he wasn’t hot back when he was in high school, but...wow.”

 

“Felicity,” Oliver gently interjected.

 

“Right...not the time.  Er, yeah, I don’t know these three, but they could have moved to town recently, or just be new friends or...or whatever.”

 

“Would any of these kids hurt Stiles...want him to be kidnapped?”

  
“No.  I mean, growing up Scott and Stiles were like brothers...they were inseparable, and when he was, like six, Stiles went through a stage where he pretty much just worshipped the ground Derek stood on...it was so adorable, and I know that the other day when I asked him about his friends he said he was sort of friends with Derek Hale these days...that he and his friends hung out on Derek’s property. Stiles said that he and Jackson were sort of friends now, even though he said that Jackson was still a douche...his word, not mine.  Hey...that blonde boy...that MIGHT be Camden Lahey’s little brother, but I don’t know, it’s been too long since I saw them...I wasn’t even in Camden’s year level.”

 

“So, they’re friendlies?” Diggle asked

 

“I know Scott and Stiles have been skyping since Stiles arrived in Starling City, and I even chatted to Scott a bit the other day...so I’m going to go out on a limb and say yes...they’re friends.”

 

“In which case,” Oliver mused, “Why would the kidnappers call them?  Unless...unless it was a trap...or a ransom, and Stiles is just the bait.”

 

“Oliver...they’re a bunch of kids.  What on earth would kidnappers want that a bunch of kids could give them?” Diggle pointed out helpfully, sitting on the edge of Felicity’s desk

 

“Jackson and Lydia are both from wealthy families.” Felicity offered.

 

“It’s too removed.  Getting to the parents by kidnapping a boy your kids are friends with?  It doesn’t make sense.  What about the older guy...what can you tell me about him?”

 

“Derek?  No....just no.  Derek’s entire family is dead.  I was best friends with his sister...the same one who died last year.  I got the impression that he and Stiles aren’t even that close..  I knew he was back in Beacon Hills, but he and Laura...they have nothing of value...they lost everything when their parents got killed in a house fire.  My stepdad ruled it arson last year.”

 

“Did Derek retaliate...maybe this is revenge?” Diggle offered.

 

“There’s been a lot of deaths relating to the case, but they were all wild animal attacks, or they were committed by the woman who organised the whole thing, Kate Argent.  She’s dead now too...Derek’s uncle killed her before he killed himself.” Felicity told them, “It was in the news, and then I took a look at the official police reports...which you don’t need to know about.”

 

“Hacking police records is some of what you do for us, Felicity, we’re not going to hand you over to the cops,” Oliver reminded her.  She gave a guilty smile.

 

“Right...I forgot that.”

 

“I’m going to head out.  If those kids have a plan to rescue Stiles they probably have an idea on where he is being held.  They might lead me straight to him.”

 

“It’s worth a shot...the fact they arrive here after someone in Beacon Hills was called by the kidnappers, it’s too much of a lead when we don’t have anything else to fall back on.” Diggle told them. 

 

Felicity let out a sigh, “Just bring Stiles back,” she told Oliver, her voice tinged in desperation, “I just want my baby brother back.”

 

“You’ll get him back,” Oliver promised Felicity, a hand on her shoulder, before he headed off, collecting his uniform and his bow as he went.  Diggle reached out and rested his hand on Felicity’s shoulder, right where Oliver had placed his hand.

 

“I can’t believe this has something to do with Scott.  He’s harmless...a puppy.” Felicity said in a soft voice, her shock evident in her tone.

 

“Oliver will find out what’s going on,” Diggle told her, “he’ll get to the bottom of this, and he’ll get Stiles out of whatever he’s been dragged into.”

 

Felicity nodded in reply, and busied herself with her computers, tracking Oliver’s movements across the Glades to the diner where Scott and the others had been sighted, staying silent as she focused on her work.  Diggle watched, keeping a distance, since he knew Felicity hated people looking over her shoulder.

 

Even though neither of them said anything, both Felicity and Diggle were thinking about Stiles and what his kidnappers were potentially doing to him and Felicity knew her thoughts would be the stuff her nightmares would be made of for the rest of her life...regardless of what condition Stiles was in when he was found.


	10. Chapter 10

Oliver perched on Felicity’s rooftop, bow held loosely in one hand as he peered down at the pavement below, his gaze fixed on a solitary figure, dressed in a leather jacket, standing outside the building, casually leaning against a signpost with a newspaper in his hands, flicking through it. Oliver had followed the man from the Diner straight to Felicity’s apartment, keeping to the rooftops in order to stay hidden. He recognised the man from the picture Carly had taken...then man identified by Felicity as Derek Hale...a man who, of late, had spent time with Stiles.

 

The fact that Derek had gone from the Diner straight to Felicity’s apartment building made alarm bells ring in Oliver’s mind. Derek certainly knew more than he should. From what Felicity had said she and Derek had not talked much in recent years...not since Derek had informed Falsity of his sister’s untimely death. Unless Stiles had told Derek, how on earth did the older man know which building was the one where Felicity lived. Somebody must have told him, but was it an innocent gesture on Stiles’ path, or had Stiles’ kidnappers arranged to meet Derek at this location...during that all too short phone call in the early hours of that morning? Oliver wasn’t sure, but he was careful not to take his eyes off the man. He had been surprisingly quick moving through the streets, especially considering he was on foot...Oliver had struggled to keep up, and now Oliver didn’t want Derek to disappear on him.  

 

As he watched, Derek Oliver found himself wondering if Derek was the one who hurt Stiles. He definitely looked strong enough to be able to inflict a lot of damage to someone, and Oliver was getting a very dangerous feeling off the man...as if his instincts were warning him not to mess with Derek Hale.

 

Oliver pulled out his phone and pulled a copy of the picture. Diggle had conveniently forwarded the picture on to both Felicity and Oliver so Oliver would be able to check it again to ensure he was following the right guy. He studied Derek in the image, a much closer up view than what Oliver currently had. In the photo it looked like Derek was concerned, or worried about something, and Oliver could tell the man was angry about something. Maybe he was worried about Stiles, and he was angry the innocent teenager had been taken. All of the teens, however, looked slightly worried, and none of them were happy.

 

Tearing his eyes from the image of Derek, Oliver glanced at the solid, muscle bound teenager that could pass as a near identical double for Roy, except for the fact he was obviously a couple of years younger. Oliver had made Felicity do a search into Roy’s background when he and Thea had first started going out, and the results hadn’t been much. A couple of arrests, but no convictions, no high school records past his sophomore year. Roy had spent the majority of his childhood and his teenage years in the foster system. Roy’s first permanent placement with a family had lasted well, lasting eight years, until the couple that had been caring died within four months of each other...one from cancer, the other from a prescription drug overdose that was ruled a suicide. From then on the longest Roy had ever spent in one home was ten months, with the average being about five, until Roy was almost seventeen, and he ran away and disappeared from official records.

 

Felicity had also found out that both of Roy’s biological parents had been reasonably wealthy...although not to the level of Oliver or Tommy, and all evidence indicated that they loved their son very much. They had been upstanding members of the community, having lived in California; in Beacon Hills County (although not Beacon Hills itself).  The couple had been killed in a car accident when Roy had been twenty months old. Roy himself had been in the car when it had crashed, but he had fortunately not been badly injured. Roy’s father had died on impact, and his mother had died in hospital, during an operation to try and save the life of the unborn child she was carrying. With his parents dead, and no other living relatives to be found, Roy had grown up being moved from foster home to foster home until he ran away from his last foster home when he was sixteen. Neither Oliver nor Felicity, to Oliver’s knowledge, had looked into finding out what had happened to Roy’s younger sibling...although Oliver now had a strong suspicion that he knew where they had ended up.

 

After everything that he had gone through, Oliver didn’t believe in coincidences, but the fact that Roy’s younger brother and Felicity and her brother, had grown up in the same town, couldn’t really be explained. Oliver really couldn’t imagine how someone could manipulate that into happening, not without prior knowledge of Felicity and Roy both being connected to the Vigilante of Starling City.

 

Oliver was dragged from his thoughts when he noticed movement down on the sidewalk. Two large men were walking down the sidewalk, and there was something...animalistic...in the way that they moved that caught Oliver’s attention. He watched as they moved along the sidewalk, approaching Felicity’s building, and Oliver followed their line of sight, noticing that they were looking right at Derek Hale, who had lowered his newspaper and was watching them. Even from a distance Oliver could see the way Derek’s lips curled into a threatening snarl.

 

Oliver was reminded of the afternoon he and Stiles had spent playing lacrosse. Stiles had said that Derek put on an act of being a badass, and Oliver now knew exactly what the teenager meant. The younger man looked threatening, and if it had been sixteen year old Thea that was hanging out with him, Oliver would have been very concerned. As it was Oliver was concerned about Stiles and his friends hanging out with Derek...but then, Oliver had seen how worried the man was beneath the gruff exterior, and he remembered how many losses Derek had experienced in his short life so far. It was no wonder that Derek hid behind a mask in order to protect both himself and those he cared about...Oliver was exactly the same. Now, a friend of Derek’s was missing, and Oliver knew that Derek thought the two men approaching him had something to do with it.

 

The streets were empty, even though it was approaching lunchtime people were not venturing out. Not for the first time Oliver cursed himself for not trying to get Felicity to move to a better neighbourhood...especially with the crime wave that was now gripping the still standing areas of the Glades, and the surrounding neighbourhoods.

 

Oliver carefully climbed lower, using the fire escape to get closer to Derek, wanting to be close just in case something happened between the leather clad man from Beacon Hills, and the two men that were approaching him.

 

Once Oliver was within hearing distance, he stopped, crouching low to avoid being seen. The pair of men now stood in front of Derek, and one of them spoke.

 

“Alpha Hale,” he greeted, “Alpha Constiablo sends his regards. He is pleased you were able to arrive in Starling City so promptly.”

 

“Where is Stiles?” Derek growled.

 

“All in good time, Alpha Hale. We’ve been instructed to bring you back to Alpha Constiablo. You’ll see your pathetic little human pet soon. You should have heard how he screamed when Alpha Constiablo questioned him...although I fear we might never get the bloodstains out of the floor. ”

 

Derek snarled and lunged at the two men, and Oliver watched as the faces off all three men shifted, their foreheads becoming raised, the noses becoming flatter, and their teen growing into fangs. Derek’s eyes, which had been green, burned bright blood red, while the eyes of the other men were electric blue. Oliver watched in shock as they fought, taken by surprise by the transformation. By the time he pulled himself out of his shocked stillness, the fight was over.   One of the men was lying on the ground, groaning in pain, his jacket and shirt shredded and drenched with blood. The other man...the one who had been talking, was on the ground, unconscious, with Derek standing over him, his chest heaving as he turned and faced the less badly injured man.

 

“Grab your little friend and let’s go and get this over with. You wouldn’t want to keep your precious Alpha waiting.” Derek snarled, his eyes flashing bright blood red, and the man scrambled to his feet, staggering over to his unconscious friend and hauling him up into a fireman’s carry, despite the face he was obviously badly injured... Oliver could see the bloodstain on the concrete where the man had been laying. Derek tossed the newspaper into the bin, and then followed the pair down the street. Oliver followed along behind, thankful that the buildings in this area were so close to one another, allowing him to jump from rooftop to rooftop.

 

Oliver’s good luck ended when Derek was led around the corner and up to a parked car. The unconscious man was dumped in the back seat, and Derek got in the front passenger seat, leaving the other man to drive. Oliver quickly switched on his com link to Felicity and Diggle.

 

“Felicity, I need you to track a car for me,” he hissed, rattling of the car’s licence plate number, along with its current location.

 

‘Got it,” Felicity said as the car started and drove away. Oliver sprinted back the way he had come, heading to the alleyway where he had left his motorbike.

 

“Looks like they’re heading into the glades,” Felicity reported.

 

‘Keep me posted,” Oliver replied, “Diggle...you might want to meet me there...From what I just saw I’m going to need back up.”

 

“On my way,” Diggle stated over the com link

 

“Oliver...what did you just see?” Felicity asked anxiously, “what happened?”

 

“Derek Hale was there,” Oliver replied. He was approached by two men. He beat them up and ordered them to take him to their Alpha...I guess that’s their leader. It sounded like that was where Stiles was being held.”

 

“Did they say anything about how Stiles was?” Felicity asked. Oliver cringed.

 

“Felicity...he’s still alive...that’s all I got.”

 

“Oh, thank God,” Felicity moaned, while Oliver mentally berated himself for lying. He knew that he still needed Felicity functioning in order to track the car Derek was in, and he knew that her ability to do that would be severely compromised if she knew her brother had been tortured.         

 

“Alright, Felicity, tell me where to go.” Oliver said, as he threw himself onto his motorbike and it roared into life. He sped out onto the main street weaving through the traffic as he followed her directions. It looked like Felicity was going to be right. Derek was being taken, although by a long route, deep into the Glades...not all that far from Verdant. Oliver knew that there were a lot of abandoned buildings there that hadn’t been cleared for use by the fire department after the earthquake, so there was no shortage of buildings for a gang to use as a hideout. If it was not clear which building they were using, Oliver could potentially waste hours Stiles did not have searching for the gang’s hideout.

 

Oliver had no doubts that this was gang related...despite his earlier doubts about Stiles. Derek was, obviously, the leader, and Stiles had been taken in order to get to him. Mentally, Oliver kicked himself for not going further about his concerns about Stiles’ extracurricular activities back in Beacon Hills. While it was true that he and Stiles had only had their discussion on Saturday, and it was approaching midday on Tuesday now, but Oliver was certain that, even without Felicity, he and Diggle should have been able to get some information about Stiles and his friends...and possibly prevented anything from happening to Stiles.

 

Now, the poor kid had been kidnapped from his sister’s apartment and tortured because of what he was involved in back at home. Oliver wasn’t sure how the other gang had found Stiles...Felicity had been so careful; terrified that Stiles would get hurt because of the violence in Starling City. Stiles had stayed at home for almost entirely the whole time he had been in Starling City.

 

Except...except for the times when Oliver had pushed Felicity to take him out. The first time when they had all gone to the diner, the second time when Felicity and Stiles had gone to Oliver’s house and they had played lacrosse, the third time when Oliver had suggested that maybe, on Sunday, Felicity and Stiles go out and explore the city.

 

Oliver was convinced that at some point during the three excursions...probably either the first or the last, Stiles had been recognised and targeted...and now he had been tortured and could potentially be killed.

 

And it would be Oliver’s fault for encouraging Felicity to let Stiles out and see Starling City.


	11. Chapter 11

Felicity paced the basement, her phone gripped tightly in her hand, anxious to hear some news...any news.

 

Oliver had gone to the diner in disguise to observe the newly arrived group from Beacon Hills. The last Felicity had heard from Oliver, he had decided to follow Derek Hale when the man left the diner, and had been lead straight back to Felicity’s apartment building. Derek had set up camp at the front of the building, obviously waiting for something, or keeping watch, Oliver hadn’t been sure.

 

Diggle was gone, having headed to the Diner to watch the rest of Stile’s friends, and follow them when they left. Both he and Oliver were maintaining radio silence, and Felicity was desperate for news.

 

“I need a distraction,” Felicity muttered to herself, her gaze dropping to her phone. She had been clutching it, waiting for her stepdad or Office Lance to call her and give her some news, but so far she had heard nothing since John had called her and informed her that he had landed and was safely on his way to the Starling City Police complex in order to assist with the investigation into Stiles’ disappearance.

 

Felicity tapped at her phone screen, bringing up the photo of Stiles’ friends at the diner. She couldn’t get over how grown up they all looked. It had been years since she had seen any of them...back then they had all been children, with the chubby faces and the youthful excitement that went with it. Now, as she zoomed in on Scott in the photo, Felicity couldn’t believe how grown up the teen looked...he almost looked like an adult...a grown man.

 

The last time Felicity had spent time with Scott he and Stiles had been gangly kids, just on the cusp of puberty, and showing it clearly, their voices pitching wildly, Scott’s asthma heavily restricting what he could and couldn’t do. They had reminded Felicity of half grown puppies, all leggy and awkward. When she had told Melissa the older woman had laughed, patting Felicity on the shoulder and telling her that Scott and Stiles would grow out of the puppy stage soon enough.

 

Felicity couldn’t believe that it had happened. It felt as though, while her back was turned, Stiles and Scott, one her brother, the other practically her brother, had grown up into completely different people. Stiles was secretive and distant and Scott looked mature beyond his years, obviously knowing something about Stiles’ disappearance.

 

Zooming the photo out once again, Felicity studied the faces of the other teens in the photo that she knew from Beacon Hills. Lydia, pretty as always, although now looking more far more grown up, having grown out of plaits and pigtails, leaning against Jackson, who looked weary, shadows under his eyes, as if he had gone through trauma recently.

 

Felicity frowned as she looked at the teenagers. Actually, they all had that look in their eyes...the same look that Oliver and Diggle sometimes had on their faces after a bad night... like the night of the earthquake, when Tommy had died in Oliver’s arms.

 

No teenager should ever have that look on their face; Felicity decided as she looked at the photo, swiping tears from her eyes. Even Derek was too young to have that look on his face. He wasn’t that much younger than her, but in Felicity’s mind Derek always would be Laura’s baby brother. After what happened to his family...after losing everything in that fire, Felicity had known that there would be deep mental scarring, but even then she had never expected the raw pain in the man’s eyes. Others might not be able to pick it, but Felicity had known Derek from his childhood, and she knew his facial expressions. Felicity had after all learned how to read Derek like a book from Laura.

 

Right now Derek was carrying what Laura had used to call his kicked puppy look...for when he was sad, angry or really distressed about something. Felicity was familiar with it...Derek had used the expression a lot in the last six months or so before the fire, although now she could see the grown up version of it, she had to admit the look was much more intimidating than it ever had been before the fire.

 

Letting out a defeated sigh Felicity walked across the basement to her desk, dropping into her seat heavily, putting her phone down beside her, the photo of Stiles’ friends still showing on the screen. Felicity glanced at her tablet and then at her phone.

 

Growing up she had never had anything to do with Jackson Whittlemore, other than send him scathing looks when she went and picked Stiles up from school. She knew that the adopted son of the Whittlemores had made Stiles life hell since the first grade...even going so far as to get a restraining order against him. Now though, Jackson had crossed several state lines in order to help Stiles. It was a big turnaround...and such a sudden change made Felicity suspicious.

 

Felicity knew well how Stiles felt about Jackson, and it made her think that there was no way Stiles would willingly join a gang that Jackson was in...which made her think that Jackson was probably a newer member of the group than Stiles. It would also explain why the teenager didn’t look quite as concerned as the others. Even Erica, who Stiles had rarely mentioned, looked concerned in the image.

 

Even though she had spent what felt like hours staring at the photo, Felicity couldn’t believe the resemblance between Roy and Jackson. They had to be related...there was no other way to explain it. She remembered the research she had done for Oliver when he had found out about Roy and Thea’s blossoming relationship.

 

Sitting straighter Felicity brought up the information she already had on Roy, focusing on his early life, before his parents had been killed a car accident. It all seemed normal, and it pained Felicity to see how much it looked like Roy’s biological parents had loved him, only to be tragically torn away from their son’s life when the little boy was not even two years old.

 

Felicity began to extend her original search into the car accident itself. Roy hadn’t been hurt in the head on collision, but both his parents were not so lucky. It was a miracle in itself that Roy’s mother had lived long enough to make saving her unborn child a viable option for the doctors at the hospital she was taken to after the crash.

 

A little hacking of medical records and a glance over the insurance investigators report written by a Robert Reyes, father of the same Erica Stiles had obviously befriended, revealed that the hospital staff were successful in saving the life of Roy’s younger sibling...his little brother, although Roy’s mother had died midway through the procedure. The baby was literally pulled from his mother’s dead body, and at the time the doctors had feared the baby had been deprived of oxygen for too long.

 

Their fears were unfounded, as the baby was perfectly healthy, even if a little undersize for being born a month before his expected due date. When Roy’s parent’s wills, written only weeks before were consulted, it became apparent that everything would be left to their children, although no one was listed when it came to who should become the guardian of Roy and his brother in the event of their parent’s dying. Roy and the baby were sent into foster care, and they were both quickly adopted, Roy by the Harpers, the baby, now named Jackson, by the Whittlemores. The Harper family had moved to Starling City a few years later, and Jackson had grown up in a privileged household, tormenting his classmates and becoming, as Stiles once said, a first class douche.

 

Felicity stared at the screen, the light from the monitors reflecting in her glasses. She couldn’t believe it.   Roy Harper, the sweet, but street hardened kid that loved Thea Queen and who idolised the vigilante, and Jackson Whittlemore, the rich, spoiled boy who had tormented Stiles since their first day of school, were brothers. They’d been brought up in polar opposite families, one stealing to eat, the other driving around in a Porsche, but despite everything, they’d still somehow found themselves involved in Felicity’s life (even if she made no claims of being fond of Jackson.

 

The buzz of the communication device in Felicity’s ear coming to live broke her train of thought causing her to jump violently, almost squealing in surprise. She managed to keep her mouth shut as she heard Oliver’s voice in her ear.  

“Felicity, I need you to track a car for me,” he hissed, before he rattled off his current location (which she already knew, thanks to the GPS unit she had fitted to Oliver’s boots) and the licence plate of the car in question, an unassuming sedan that blended in with the rest of the traffic. Still, as it was the middle of the day, traffic was light, and using traffic cameras Felicity quickly located it and locked her computers onto it, pushing all thoughts of Roy and Jackson and their unexpected shared heritage back to the furthest recesses of her mind. Finding Stiles was her first priority

 

‘Got it,” Felicity said as she watched a live feed (thanks to a well angled security camera) the car start and begin driving away from her apartment building, weaving through the light traffic. She could hear pounding feet and air whistling, indicating Oliver was running, but she forced herself to pretend it was an ordinary case...that it wasn’t Stiles that Oliver was trying to save. She watched her monitors as they flickered and changed, skipping from monitor to monitor, as she changed camera feeds. There were a few places where she held her breath, knowing that the car could turn or stop without her knowing, but to her relief the car always appeared. She brought up a map of Starling City, and began to track the route the car was taking

 

“Looks like they’re heading for the glades, but by a roundabout route, there are much quicker ways to go,” Felicity reported to Oliver.

 

‘Keep me posted,” Oliver replied and Felicity heard the sound of Oliver’s motorbike revving loudly through the mike.

 

‘Diggle...you might want to meet me there...From what i just saw I’m going to need back up.” Oliver requested

 

“On my way,” Diggle stated over his own com link

 

“Oliver...what did you just see?” Felicity asked, because, screw it, it was her brother. She needed to know what was going on, “what happened?”

 

“I followed Derek Hale to your apartment. He stood out the front for a bit before he was approached by two men. He beat them up and ordered them to take him to their Alpha...I guess that’s their leader. It sounded like that was where Stiles was being held.” Oliver told her.

 

“Did they say anything about how Stiles was? Is he hurt?” Felicity asked.

 

“Felicity...he’s still alive...that’s all I got,” Oliver replied. Felicity squeezed her eyes shut, a tear rolling down her cheek.

 

“Oh, thank God,” Felicity sighed, wishing more than anything that Stiles was back safe with her and John. It was times like this that Felicity hated not being able to go out with Oliver and Diggle. She wished she could help free Stiles, but she knew, in her head, that if she was there, she’d only get in the way. Oliver and Diggle would be worried about protecting her, and not about saving Stiles and making sure they themselves didn’t get hurt.

 

“Alright, Felicity, tell me where to go.” Oliver said, and Felicity nodded to herself as she began to give Oliver directions, including shortcuts, so that he would be able to catch up. She cursed when the car disappeared, although only because it had gotten into the glades, where all the security cameras were either broken or not working thanks to the earthquake.

 

Nervously Felicity rested her chin on hands as Oliver began searching the Glades for the car, praying for him to find the car Derek had been in quickly. There was nothing else she could do to help rescue her brother...now Stiles’ life was in the hands of Oliver, Diggle, and Derek hale and a group of teenagers that had followed their friend to Starling city in order to rescue him.

 

Felicity closed her eyes and prayed that all of them...Oliver, Stiles, Diggle and Derek...got out unharmed.

 

In her head, though, Felicity knew the chances of that happening were nonexistent. Letting out a sigh she picked up her phone and flicked through her contacts until she found Quentin Lance. The police officer needed to know what was happening.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics equals Arrow Style Flashback sequence to Lian Yu (in case it wasn't obvious)

Isaac left Boyd behind as he raced across the flat concrete rooftop, before he launched himself through the air, soaring across the gap between the two buildings. He landed and immediately rolled with the momentum, crouching when he came out of the roll, waiting for Boyd to catch up. Boyd was better at tracking scents, and in a hand to hand fight he was stronger, but Isaac was by far the fastest and most agile of Derek’s betas, thanks in part to his towering height.

 

Inhaling deeply, Isaac scuttled to the edge of the building, peering down at the streets below. As they had been instructed, he and Boyd had followed Derek from a safe distance when he’d been taken from the front of Stiles’ sister’s apartment. They had followed Derek’s scent trail, easy to pick out even with the unfamiliar scents of the busy city, through Starling City, up and down streets in a zigzagging route, until they had eventually followed it right into the area that had been most affected by the earthquake. Isaac was very aware of the obvious cracks in the walls and roof of the building he was standing on, and from his heightened senses, he could tell that the building had been deserted ever since the earthquake, condemned and marked for being destroyed.

 

Looking around, Isaac knew that he and Boyd had come as far as they could using rooftops. From here onwards the buildings were already destroyed, either during the quake or knocked down in the aftermath. Piles of rubble lay everywhere and the area was deserted, abandoned by the people who had once called the area home.

 

“This place gives me the creeps,” Isaac told Boyd, who nodded in agreement.

 

“We need to get closer to Derek,” Boyd told Isaac, who nodded, following the other werewolf as they carefully climbed down the rickety fire escape down to the ground level. Keeping to the shadows, they hurried along, following the trail of Derek’s scent. The smell of other werewolves was thick in the air, and it was enough to make Isaac and Boyd nervous and edgy.

 

“Can you smell that?” Boyd asked in a hushed voice.

 

“What?”

 

“There was a human here...not Stiles. I smelt him back at the apartment building.”

 

“I thought I saw someone on the rooftop, but they were very well hidden, and he was downwind from where I was positioned. Do you think it’s a human in the other pack?”

 

“From what Peter and Derek said I don’t think this pack would have humans in it...not like us.”

 

“Well...who is he then?”

 

Boyd shrugged, glancing around cautiously, “I don’t know...but he’s around here somewhere.”

 

“Hey...Starling City has that vigilante...maybe it’s him.” Isaac offered.

 

Boyd snorted, “Why would the vigilante be interested in helping Stiles?”

 

“I don’t know...I’m trying to think like Stiles.”

 

“Well...don’t. Only Stiles can pull off comments like that and make it believable.” Boyd snapped, glaring at Isaac warningly

 

“Hey, I’m trying, okay. What’s wrong with you? Derek won’t let anything happen to Stiles.” Isaac said, still trying to be optimistic.

 

“Has it occurred to you that we might be too late...that Stiles is already dead? That despite him saving every single one of us at some point, we won’t be able to save him.” Boyd snapped, getting in Isaac’s personal space and causing the blonde to instinctively flinch back and cower.

 

“When we were being held in the Argent’s basement, Stiles did everything he could to protect Erica and I. He got beaten up bad, and he never gave up where Derek and you were hanging out. He mouthed off to draw Argent’s attention onto him, to get it away from Erica and me. Once we all got out, and we knew that he was okay, Erica and I...we promised that we wouldn’t let anything happen to Stiles. Derek’s never said that Stiles was pack, but to us...to us he is already. Do you know what he said when we asked him why he did it? Why he protected us. He laughed...said that despite everything Erica and me and you did to him...he didn’t want to see us get hurt...he didn’t want to see his friend suffer. Despite everything, he still considered us to be his friends. Stiles was one of the only reasons we didn’t keep running once Chris Argent let us out.”

 

A hurt look flashed across Isaac’s face, remembering how much it had pained him and Derek when Boyd and Erica had left, breaking the already fragile pack bonds that the four Hale pack members had shared. The night after the final confrontation with Gerard, and Jackson became a werewolf, Isaac and Derek had curled together in Derek’s bed in the underground railway station, clinging to one another, the only pack either of them had left. The next morning, about lunchtime, Boyd and Erica had come back, promising never to leave again, recognising Derek as their alpha once again. In the weeks that had passed since then the pack bonds had begun to rebuild, but Isaac could tell how strained thing were, how Erica and Boyd’s departure had broken something in the pack, and nothing would ever fix the break, no matter how much time had passed.

 

Hearing that it was because Stiles’ efforts to protect them that Boyd and Erica came back to Derek didn’t really surprise Isaac. Erica especially had always been fond of Stiles...she’d actually had a crush on him for most of their freshman year. What hurt was the way that Erica and Boyd had cast Isaac aside, obviously not caring enough about him to even ask if he wanted to go on the run with them (even though Isaac didn’t think he could have brought himself to abandon Derek).

 

Erica and Boyd were the newest people to join the large number of people who had shown that they didn’t give a damn about him. His brother and father had been founding members of the group; his mother too, choosing to kill herself in grief at loosing Camden instead of staying with Isaac, most of the teachers at school were there. Now Isaac considered Boyd and Erica to be among them, and their rejection stung bitterly.

 

Stiles had never turned his back on Isaac, even after Isaac had tried to kill him on Isaac’s first full moon after being bitten. Stiles was a part of Isaac’s pack, even if the human didn’t know it, and even if Derek refused to acknowledge it.

 

And Isaac would die before he let something happen to a member of his pack.

 

TW/A

 

Scott strode down the alleyway, jumping lightly over a high fence and landing noiselessly on the pavement on the other side. He continued down the alley, breaking into a jog until the alley ended, running into a street. Scott casually tucked his hands in his pockets and slunk down the street, keeping his head lowered and his hood up to avoid attracting the attention of the people walking with him on the footpath. The plan worked and he was ignored, the people of Starling city paying no attention to the normal looking teenager.

 

After quickly looking both ways, Scott ducked across the street and walked into another alleyway. He smiled when he spotted Allison, Lydia, Erica and Jackson, all leaning against the brick walls of the two buildings that were on either side of the narrow laneway.

 

“Did you find any trace of him?’ Allison asked as Scott approached the rest of the teenagers.

 

Scott shook his head grimly, “There are a lot of werewolves around though, and I could pick up their scents all over the city.”

 

Jackson and Erica nodded in agreement. Constiablo’s pack was certainly larger than Derek’s, and it was made up of werewolves only. While it was true that Allison could defend herself, if needed, it was left unsaid by the rest of the teens that Lydia was going to be in the most danger, especially because she would need to get close to the building where Stiles was being held in order to alert Derek to the fact that the pack was there.

 

“Alright, so now we just need to wait for Isaac and Boyd’s signal.” Lydia reasoned, examining her nails with a critical eye. Scott sighed and began pacing the narrow laneway, trying to reign in his inner wolf that was desperate for something to happen...to do something to help save Stiles. The only problem was that Scot wasn’t sure what he...or the rest of the pack...would be able to do. Despite not being the smartest member of the pack, Scott was very aware of how badly wrong things could go. What happened in the coming hours could do more damage to the already fragile Hale pack than Kate Argent did the night of the fire.

 

Scott remembered when Derek had pulled him aside, before they had left Beacon Hills, the older werewolf looking even grimmer than he did normally.

 

“I need to talk to you, before we leave.” Derek had told Scott, who had nodded, forcing himself to put aside their past disagreements for Stiles’ sake.

 

“Sure...what do you want to talk about?”

 

“If...If I die, you’re going to need to take command. You’re already an alpha of your own little pack, but if something happens to me, I need you to be able to take charge and look after Isaac, Erica, Boyd and Jackson for me, alright?”

 

“What...me? Why me?’ Scott had asked, his eyes going wide in shock. Derek had growled.

 

“Listen Scott...Allison, Lydia and Stiles...they follow you...they trust you. Jackson will follow Lydia’s lead. He’ll complain about it, but he will. She’s his anchor after all. Isaac, Erica and Boyd will instinctively look for someone to take the lead...none of them have been turned for long enough to take that sort of role...you though...you’ve got the leadership experience...you’re going to be the one they look up to. Even though you weren’t a member of my pack, I always considered you to be my second in command. Well...you and Stiles.”

 

“Stiles? But he’s not even a wolf.”

 

“And yet everyone of my betas like him...go to him for advise...trust him. Hell...Stiles risked his life to protect Erica and Boyd form Gerard Argent. You all consider him to be pack...hell...even Jackson looks up to him, even though he’ll never say anything about it. What I’m saying, Scott, is that if something happens and I can’t take the lead...I need you to take my place and get Stiles and the others out. You’ve betrayed me in the past, and it’s no secret that I don’t trust easily...but I need you to do this. I trust you to look after the others more than I trust Peter.”

 

Scott had found himself nodding, “If it comes to that, then yeah, of course I will. You’re not going to do anything stupid and be reckless, though, are you? Don’t go in their looking to die, Derek, because...because I was wrong, when I first got bitten...I did need you then...and I still need you.”

 

“I’m not going to make any promises, Scott,” Derek had answered, and Scott could hear the painful honesty in the Alpha werewolf’s voice, “if it’s a choice between me and Stiles getting out alive, then I’m going to pick Stiles, every single time, but I will do everything I can to make sure the entire pack, and I’m including Stiles in that, gets out alive and unharmed, alright?”

 

Reflecting on how he had nodded in response to Derek’s question just before the Alpha werewolf had headed off towards Felicity’s aprtment, Scott bit on his lip nervously, looking over his shoulder at the other teens. He hadn’t told any of them about his conversation with Derek, and Derek hadn’t mentioned it to any of the others either.

 

Scott knew that it was because of the already shaky confidence level of the group as a whole. They stood to lose so much...their homes...their town, their families and friends outside of the pack. Sure, some people had been forewarned of the potential evacuation...Scott’s own mother, Deaton, Allison’s dad, Danny and Peter, but there were a lot of people who would be left behind and kept in the dark...Erica, Lydia and Jackson’s parents; Boyd’s family, Danny’s family, Greenberg and the rest of the guys on the lacrosse team, Lydia and Jackson’s extended friend circles, the staff at the hospital and the surviving members of the Beacon Hills Sherriff’s department...Heather and the other kids who Stiles had gotten along well with. The list was endless.

 

A gentle hand resting on Scott’s shoulder made him startle, having not heard anyone approach. Derek...and Stiles as well, would have been disappointed, had they been there to see it. It was testament to how worried the others were when Jackson and Erica didn’t laugh at Scott jumping like a startled rabbit at Allison’s hand resting on his shoulder.

 

“Hey,” she said softly, “You need to calm down...you’re eyes...”

 

Scot blinked, realising that his eyes had turned to their werewolf gold colour. He ducked his face away from Allison, hating having her see him like this, but Allison’s palm pressed on his cheek prevented him from moving his head away, forcing him to look at her. Eyes downcast, Scott was still, until Allison pressed her lips against his in a soft, but reassuring kiss.

 

“I believe in you. You won’t let anything happen to Stiles. Derek won’t let anything happen to Stiles.” She told him, gripping his jacket tightly. Mutely, Scott nodded.

 

“Shouldn’t Isaac and Boyd have gotten in contact by now?” he asked.

 

“They checked in ten minutes ago. They were still tracking Derek’s scent.” Erica told him. Scott sighed and went to the nearest t wall, sliding down it with a sigh as Allison sat on the ground next to him.

 

“I hate this...waiting, not able to do anything,” Jackson muttered darkly, glaring at the wall opposite where he sat. Lydia rubbed his hands reassuringly, trying to keep him calm

 

“Join the club,” Erica muttered from where she was perched on top of a dumpster.

 

Scott tilted his head back and looked upwards, feeling his eyes return to their normal colour, although his wolf was still trying to break free, desperate to find Stiles and take him back home; a constant urge to protect his pack running through Scott’s head.

 

Soon, Scott thought, trying to calm his frayed nerves, we’ll get Stiles back soon.

 

TW/A

 

Oliver was silent as he navigated through the streets of the Glades, his keen eyes searching for any sign of the car that had brought the brother of Felicity’s former best friend into the derelict neighbourhood, aware, but not yet concerned about the two figures he had noticed not long after entering the Glades, keeping to the rooftops as much as possible. They kept away from Oliver, so he guessed that their business in the area had nothing to do with him. He was a little preoccupied with searching for the car Derek Hale had been brought to this area in. As he searched, he thought back on what he had seen back at the front of Felicity’s apartment building.

 

On the island Oliver had seen a lot of strange things, and he had heard about many more. The person he had been before the island would never believe in the things he knew to be real now...he had seen far too much that just defied everything he had ever seen before.   As if it had just come right out of the pages of one of Stiles’ comic books.

 

Derek and the two men he had fought against...and defeated...were obviously not normal...not judging from the way their eyes had changed colour, and the way their facial hair had grown, and then they had looked normal once again as they had gotten into the car. Derek Hale and his opponents had obviously been very strong, but most of the ways that Oliver knew of that produced that level of strength didn’t cause the physical changes that Oliver had witnessed.

 

A memory came to him, of his time back on the island. It had been when he was living in the plane with Slade and Shado, not long after Fyers died. Oliver’s mind wandered, filled with the almost forgotten memory.

 

_It was dark, the sky above the island cloudless and clear. Oliver lay alone on the ground in the clearing just outside the plane. If he closed his eyes and listened, focused, just like Slade and Shado had been trying to teach him, he could hear the soft sounds of Slade and Shado as the talked in the plane. Oliver, however, didn’t really are what they were talking about. He was thinking about Laurel. He’d lost track of how long he had been on the island, but it felt like it had been eons since he had last seen Laurel’s beautiful face in real life. The small, slightly battered, photo he carried, didn’t even begin to do her justice._

_Far above him the moon was full, and Oliver wondered if, when it was night time wherever she was, Laurel would look up at the moon. It was large, shining brightly down on the island, illuminating the forest and shining through the darkness._

_“What are you doing?” A voice asked, and Oliver tilted his head, looking up at Slade. The Australian spy and their female companion were standing watching him. Oliver had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard their approach. He would pay for that mistake the next morning during his training._

_“Looking at the sky,” Oliver had answered, not really in the mood to talk._

_“Obviously,” Slade rolled his eyes. Oliver suppressed the urge to glare at Slade, knowing that reacting would make the morning training session even worse._

_“The moon...it’s full, and it’s always so peaceful here when the moon is full.” Oliver admitted, knowing that he sounded like a sap._

_Slade laughed until Shado slapped him in the arm and moved over to Oliver, laying down beside him on the ground looking up at the moon and the stars._

_“You can’t see it this clearly back at home,” Oliver told the others._

_“Not at my home either,” Shado agreed. Slade grunted and joined them; sitting on the ground on Shado’s other side._

_“Sure, a full moon is pretty...and you’re both right, this island is good for stargazing, but Full moons...they don’t make me feel peaceful.”_

_“What...scared the werewolves are going to come and get you?” Oliver had teased. Neither of the others responded, and Oliver frowned._

_“You’re kidding, right?”_

_“There are stories my father told me...legends passed down through the family...about those who live in packs and who howl at the moon. They walk like men, but they are stronger than any man. Their claws are sharp and their teeth are those of a predator. They are at their strongest at the full moon, when their animalistic side is in control. I’ve never seen one of these creatures...but...but i could see the truth...the genuine warning, in my father’s eyes when he told me.”_

_Oliver glanced at Slade, but the other man was silent for a moment, his gaze distant, as if he was lost in some memory._

_“I’ve seen them before. A group of four, in the jungles of South America. I thought they were normal people at first, until I got closer. Their faces were disfigured, and their fangs were at least three centimetres long. One of them had blood red eyes, another two had blue eyes, and the last one had golden eyes that shone in the darkness. Their ears were pointed, and instead of fingernails they had claws. They growled at me and the team I was leading, before they ran off into the bushes. We tried to chase them, but they moved like lightning when they ran through the trees. One of them stopped and I saw it lift a full grown tree out of the ground as if it was a drinking straw and throw it across the track, preventing us from pursuing them further.”_

_“Any you think it was werewolves?” Oliver had asked._

_Slade had simply shrugged, “If you had seen the things I have seen, mate, werewolves wouldn’t be the craziest of theories.”_

 

Oliver paused mid step, before he shook his head. Even now, after everything he had seen and been involved in, werewolves seemed a remote possibility. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but from what he had seen both Derek Hale and the two men he had met with had fit the descriptions Slade and Shado had given him that night, so many long years ago.

 

Continuing onwards, Oliver peered cautiously around a pile of rubble, immediately spotting the car parked in what was left of a narrow lane way, between two warehouses. Oliver watched, crouching behind the rubble, waiting for an indication of which building Stiles might be being held in. The wind blew in his face as he watched, cold, despite it being summer, but Oliver didn’t move, watching and waiting, forcing himself to be patient.

 

It didn’t take long for Oliver’s patience to pay off, when a side door, quite close to where the car had been parked, of the building on the left opened and one of the men who had confronted Derek stepped out, slamming the door shut behind him. He walked around to the Driver’s side door and got in, before he started the car, reversed out of the laneway and then drove around the building, parking in the street on the other side of the building, along with several other cars...including several cars that Oliver knew that no-one living in the Glades would ever be able to afford. It looked like Oliver had found the right place. The warehouse still looked reasonably sturdy; with the exception of some broken windows that Oliver knew had probably broke during the earthquake.

 

Oliver pulled out his phone and tapped out a quick message to Diggle, before he tucked the phone back away and studied the buildings, beginning to form a plan of how he would access the building...and then get Stiles back out safely.

 

“What the hell have you got yourself into kid?” Oliver whispered to himself as he prepapred himself to put his plan into action

 

TW/A

 

Scott jumped when he felt the phone in his pocket vibrate, although Erica jumped a little at the same time, thanks to her phone vibrating in her pocket. Jackson, Lydia and Allison didn’t startle when their phones silently signalled that they had a message. Scott knew that all the messages would say the same thing...the plan had been for Boyd and Isaac to send the same message to everyone if for some reason they had been separated.

 

Opening up the message, Scott let out a shaky breath, forcing himself to be calm. He looked up at the rest of the teenagers he was with, and saw the resolve on their faces.

 

They would get Stiles back...or die trying.

 

“Let’s go.” Scott said, rising to his feet. He gave the message one last glance, before he exited out of his inbox, the meaning of the text message coursing through his mind.

 

‘Derek located...initiate operation save little red riding hood and the big bad wolf.’


	13. Chapter 13

The first thing Stiles noticed when he regained consciousness was the cold. It was summer, but whatever it was that he was lying on was cold and hard and very uncomfortable. He shifted, trying to get into a more comfortable position, and that was when his world erupted in pain. His head throbbed as if someone was pounding his skull with a hammer...from the inside. His back was in agony, and every shuddering breath made Stiles’ eyes well up with tears.

 

Moaning, Stiles opened his eyes, frowning when he noticed something sticky had stuck his eyelids closed. He wiped at his eyes clumsily with his hand, clearing away the gunk, before trying again. He felt his stomach roll when he saw the dried blood on his hand. Obviously he’d had a head wound and the blood had run down his face and into his eyes, before drying.

 

Remembering what his dad had told him to do if he was ever in a car accident, Stiles began making a catalogue of his injuries. He’d been concussed enough times to know what it felt like, and he knew from the pain, and the queasy feeling in his stomach, as well as the fact that his vision spun alarmingly when he tried to move his head, that he had a concussion. The pain in his chest, especially when he breathed, hinted at broken ribs, although judging from the fact that Stiles wasn’t coughing up blood, he didn’t have a punctured lung...yet. Stiles wriggled his toes, and then worked his way up, testing for any broken bones, but it seemed he was lucky. With the exception of his ribs, his skeleton seemed to be intact. Of course, there was probably more damage...Stiles remembered enough about his beating to know that his back would be covered in welts and gashes, and his stomach and chest would be covered in bruises...as well as the possibility of internal bleeding, but his entire body hurt too much to even consider moving any more than was absolutely necessary.

 

The next thing Stiles decided he needed to focus on was figuring out where he was. Looking around, Stiles took in the room he was in. It was small, about the size of the second story bathroom at his home in Beacon Hills, with concrete walls, roof and floor. It was illuminated by a single, bare light bulb that hung from the ceiling. In the dim light Stiles could see that, other than himself, there was nothing else in the room. No rug, no bed or mattress. It was even barer than Derek’s train carriage hideout.

 

The room looked very inescapable as well, with no windows, and a single, heavy looking, metal door. His captors hadn’t bothered to tie Stiles up, but Stiles knew that, taking into account the room, and his physical condition, he didn’t have a chance at escaping...not at the moment anyway.

 

Stiles lay in the room, his thoughts racing through his throbbing head, not helping his headache at all, but at the same time keeping him conscious. He wondered how long he had been captive for, since his watch and his phone had both been taken away from him. Would his dad know by now? Stiles shuddered as he imagined how his dad would have reacted to the news that Stiles was missing, kidnapped from the supposed safety of Felicity’s apartment. Stiles thought of his father’s already weakened heart, and he felt his own heart rate kick up a notch as his chest tightened uncomfortably...the beginnings of what Stiles was fairly certain would become a panic attack on an epic scale. What if the news was enough to trigger a heart attack?

 

Another thought came to Stiles, causing his breathing to hitch dangerously. He had been kidnapped by werewolves...in Starling city. He had been able to think up a story after he was taken by Gerard, but would his father believe another story so soon after the most recent one. Stiles’ dad was the Sherriff after all...he knew how to tell if someone was lying. It was job to tell when someone was lying...and with the amount of lying Stiles had done ever since the night when he and Scott had gone searching for Laura Hale’s body, and the present tension between him and his dad, Stiles knew his story would need to be very believable. And even then the chances of his dad believing him were slim to none.

 

Moving on from his dad, Stiles’ thoughts moved on to Felicity. Stiles had out up a struggle when the werewolves had crashed into Felicity’s apartment, all fur and fangs. It hadn’t done much good...Stiles hadn’t been able to land a hit on the werewolves before they’d managed to knock him out. Stiles hoped the werewolves hadn’t caused too much damage to Felicity’s apartment.

 

In his head, Stiles couldn’t even imagine what Felicity had gone through, getting home from work and finding Stiles gone, the lock on the door broken. He hoped that somebody had reassured her that it wasn’t her fault...that she had done everything she could to protect him. Neither of them had known the risk to Stiles that was dwelling in the underbelly of Starling City, the canine shadows that had found him and targeted him, even though he was thousands of miles away from Beacon Hills and the only other wolves Stiles knew.

 

Tears welled in his eyes as Stiles thought of the wolves. He knew, both in his brain and in his heart that he would never go back to Beacon Hills. He was the son of the Sherriff after all...he had seen his kidnapper’s face, and he knew that kidnappers didn’t bother hiding their identities when their kidnap victim wasn’t going to have the chance to tell the authorities who it was that had taken them. Stiles wasn’t going to get out alive.

 

It would devastate Scott...the only friend Stiles had had for the majority of his life. With Allison and Scott broken up (for the moment...but who knew how long that would last) and Derek and Scott determined that they had been betrayed by the other, Scott wouldn’t have anyone to help him like Stiles had when Scott’s parents had broken up. Maybe Derek would try to help, despite Scott working with Gerard. The only issue was, Stiles was pretty sure that Scott wouldn’t accept help from Derek...he hadn’t in the past anyway.

 

Perhaps more accepting of Derek’s help in the event of Stiles’ death would be Boyd, Erica and Isaac. Stiles wasn’t close to them, before they had been bitten Stiles hadn’t had much to do with them at all...but in the months since the trio had been bitten by Derek they had begun to respect one another...despite Erica knocking him out and throwing him in a dumpster. The incident in the Argent’s basement had only made the friendship between Stiles and Derek’s betas even stronger.

 

Despite that, Stiles knew that his death wouldn’t mean much to the three betas. After all, it wasn’t as if he was pack, despite what Constiablo said. Derek had made it perfectly clear that Stiles wasn’t a member of the pack.

 

As far as Derek was concerned, Stiles was pretty sure that Derek wouldn’t care that he was dead...in fact, he and Peter might rejoice in the fact that Stiles wasn’t going to be around anymore. Stiles knew that Derek found him irritating, barely refraining from killing Stiles simply because Derek wanted Scott to like him.

 

Lydia would probably be sad...but she had Jackson back now, so Stiles knew that she would move on soon enough. It wasn’t as if she had ever returned his feelings for her anyway. Sure, they had hung out together with Scott and Allison, and Stiles had tried to protect her from Derek when the Alpha werewolf thought she was the Kanima, but other than that Lydia was just as oblivious to Stiles as she had been before Scott gad been bitten. And as for Jackson...Stiles snorted. Jackson hated Stiles; he had since the first grade when he had pushed Stiles off the slide on the playground. Stiles’ death would probably be the best thing that had happened in Jackson’s life so far, and Stiles couldn’t imagine anybody missing him, or grieving his loss, less than Jackson Whittlemore.

 

The one who would feel Stiles’ loss the most, however, would undoubtedly be his dad. Felicity and Stiles had been the centre of Sherriff Stilinski’s world ever since their mother’s death, and since Felicity had moved out Stiles had been his father’s primary caregiver...making sure that he ate healthily, that he got enough sleep, a he didn’t drink too much when the pain at loosing Claudia became too great to deal with. Ever since Scott had been bitten and Stiles became involved in the supernatural world he hadn’t been doing such a good job, probably causing his dad more worry and stress than he ever had before, but he had tried his best.

 

Stiles honestly didn’t know how his father would cope if he lost Stiles. While it was true that he still had Felicity it had been years since Stiles’ dad and Felicity had spent more than a few weeks together, and although they contacted each other regularly, they weren’t as close as they had been when Felicity still lived at home. Stiles wondered for a moment if his dad would move from Beacon Hills to Starling City, so he would be closer to Felicity. If Stiles’ body wasn’t found immediately it seemed likely that the Sherriff would move to Starling City in order to help with the investigation, and to search for his son, even months after Stiles’ initially disappeared, but once Stiles’ body was found, and the case solved (Stiles didn’t doubt that his dad would eventually arrest someone in regards to the death of his son) he knew his dad would be lost, and Stiles didn’t want to think about what sort of self destructive pattern his dad would fall into then.

 

And then there was Felicity, who Stiles knew, would forever blame herself for Stiles getting taken whilst he was under her care. She was supposed to keep Stiles safe while he recovered from the attack, not leave him alone during the days in her small apartment with nothing to do but watch movies or read books or play with his computer. Now he was going to die, and no-one in his family would know why. Felicity would never know the connection between her childhood best friend and her little brother’s death, only feeling the guilt of an older sibling who feels responsible for the death of their younger sibling, despite not having done anything to cause the younger sibling harm. Stiles didn’t blame Felicity, he never would. It wasn’t her fault that Stiles had been scented out and taken by enemies of the Hale pack. No-one else would blame Felicity either. Nobody except Felicity herself.    

 

There was, however, a ray of hope. Melissa McCall had been like Stiles’ second mother ever since he and Scott had become friends in Kindergarten. She had patched up Stiles’ scrapes and wiped away his tears just as many times as she had fro Scott. Stiles was observant, despite Scott never being able to see what, to Stiles, was as broad as daylight. Stiles knew that his dad had feelings about Scott’s mom. As weird as it was, Stiles had always encouraged it. Even though losing his mom had hurt, Stiles knew his dad deserved someone in his life, and Melissa was kind, smart, caring, beautiful, and fiery enough to deal with Stiles’ dad even when he was in his darkest moments. She had helped hold the Stilinski family together when Claudia had died, and everything else had broken apart, supporting the Sherriff, Felicity and Stiles while they slowly healed and the family reformed around the gaping hole Claudia’s death had left behind.     

 

Now Stiles only hoped that Melissa would be able to fix his family again once his body was discovered. He sniffed and let out a sob, tears rolling down his face as the panic attack that he was struggling to hold back finally tore forth, his throat and chest tightening as if he was trapped in a vice. It hurt too much to move, and Stiles vainly tried to regulate his breathing, desperately trying to remember the breathing exercises he had been taught when the panic attacks had first appeared. Nothing worked, and Stiles was painfully aware of how his vision was greying around the edges, as if he was about to pass out.

 

A sudden bang startled Stiles from his panic, and the vice like grip around his chest lessened a little, allowing a little oxygen into his deprived body. Stile blinked tears from his eyes and looked up, to the thick metal door and been thrust open, and three large werewolves stood in the doorway, the blue glints in their eyes betraying their true nature. Stiles swallowed as two of the werewolves stalked into his cell and roughly grabbed his harms, hauling him upright. Stiles’ legs shook under his weight, before they gave way completely, the jarring impact with the concrete ground sending an intense wave of pain through Stiles’ body, causing his vision to go black, sending him into unconsciousness.

 

The reprieve was short lived, Stiles realised, and when he next opened his eyes to find he was being carried fireman style by one of the werewolves. He closed his eyes again, willing himself to not throw up, the motion of being carried causing his stomach to churn and threaten to revolt. It didn’t last long, however, as soon the werewolf carrying him stopped and let Stiles fall to the ground, landing in a heap with a muffled groan. Stiles heard a couple of people laugh at his discomfort, and he opened his eyes.

 

He was in the same large room he had been in before when he had first encountered Don Constiablo. It was lighter now than it had been then, and Stiles guessed it was daytime, going from the light that entered the warehouse through the skylights overhead. The warehouse was two stories tall, with a walkway and railing lining the walls on the second level, but nothing else. Stiles guessed that this was the main floor of the warehouse, possibly where all the goods was stored, going from the wooden crates the dotted the floor. Now, though, it served as a sort of Throne room for Constiablo and his pack, if the chair Stiles had been dumped in front of was any indication. Don Constiablo sat in the chair, his red eyes gleaming as he looked down at Stiles.   Around them Stiles counted fifteen werewolves (although Stiles guessed there were more in other areas of the warehouse), both men and women, all of them shifted, of varying ages, from their late teens to probably early thirties, and varying ethnicities. Don Constiablo didn’t seem to have a type in relation to who he had in his pack. As long as they were a werewolf they were accepted.

 

“Well well, look who’s finally awake...and just in time too. I was beginning to wonder if you were going to miss the festivities...it would have been a pity...I very much hoped you would be conscious for the proceedings...it’s so much more fun when they scream. It is my own fault, I guess. I tend to forget how delicate humans are, you see. They’re all so fragile.”

 

“Go to Hell.” Stiles gritted out. Don Constiablo smirked and raised his hand, striking Stiles across his face with enough force to send Stiles sliding across the floor a few feet, hitting his already concussed head on the concrete ground as he finally stopped moving. Stiles blinked stars from his eyes as his head spun from the impact, willing himself not to throw up or lose consciousness.

 

From where he sat in his throne Constiablo laughed...a noise that made Stiles’ hair stand on end and his heart rate to quicken in fear.

 

“It won’t be long and it will be all over, boy. My betas are bringing our last guest here...the guest of honour if you like, and then I will personally rip your throat out...with my teeth.”

 

Stiles’ heart skipped at the threat. When Derek had first said it Stiles had been frightened, yes, but it was nothing compared to the malice behind the words when they were spoken by Constiablo. The phrase left Stiles in no doubt about whether or not the werewolf would carry through with the threat. Stiles’ already racing heart kicked into overdrive, pounding in his chest as a cold sweat broke out on his skin. Stiles knew that he was going to die, and there would be no last minute rescue for him. No-one in Starling City knew about werewolves...or at least no-one inclined to save Stiles, and the pack in Beacon Hills lived too far away to be of any assistance. They wouldn’t know Stiles’ fate until it was too late to save him.    

Laying still, trying to remain calm, Stiles closed his eyes and focused his hearing, trying to pick out noises. He could hear murmured conversations between the werewolves in the room, and the chuckles on Constiablo in his chair, who was obviously pleased about something...Stiles’ impending death most likely.

 

Stiles stiffened when he heard the sound of a car pull up outside the warehouse, the engine shutting off and the banging of car doors. Stiles guessed he could only hear because of the broken windows and didn’t know whether to be grateful for the warning, or angry for the spike in his heart rate that the car’s arrival had caused. Stiles knew in his hear that the last guest...the guest of honour, Don Constiablo had called them, had arrived.

 

A door to the side of the room burst open and Stiles sighed, opening his eyes, his innate curiosity making it impossible for him to not want to look to see who would bear witness to his execution

 

Nothing in the entire world prepared Stiles for the sight of Derek Hale, flanked by two other werewolves both of whom looked a little worse for wear) striding into the room. Stiles watched as Derek’s gaze flicked to Don Constaiblo, and then dropped to Stiles himself, and Stiles could see the pain in the Alpha werewolf’s eyes.

 

“Derek?” Stiles croaked, not willing to believe his eyes. It was very likely that, thanks to the numerous head injuries he had gained, Stiles was hallucinating.

 

“Ah, Derek, so good to see you. It’s been a while, hasn’t it...five years by my count?” Constiablo greeted, his voice thick with false sincerity.

 

“Something like that,” Derek replied, approaching the throne like chair. Constiablo’s werewolves parted to let him through, before wordlessly reforming a circle around Derek, Constiablo and Stiles. Derek didn’t show an outward sign of noticing how he was now trapped by werewolves, but Stiles noticed. His panic building to critical levels again as his lungs stopped working again, his heart racing at a dangerously fast level as the world started to spin around him as his brain began reacting to the lack of oxygen it was receiving.

 

TW/A

 

Derek was oblivious to the circle of werewolves that had entrapped him and Stiles with Constaiblo. He wasn’t even paying that much attention to Constiablo, although he was by far the biggest threat to Stiles’ safety. Derek focused on Stiles, trapped in a vicious panic attack that was limiting his ability to breath. He glared at Constiablo, refusing to verbally ask for permission to attend to the teenager at his feet, but at the same time knowing that any movement he made without first advertising his intent would be seen as a threat, and could prove disastrous to both him and Stiles. Constiablo waved his hand dismissively in response to Derek’s unspoken request.

 

“Do what you must; I want the boy conscious for what is to come...it has been too long since I last heard the screams of a dying human. He can’t do that if he panic’s himself into a heart attack.”

 

Derek was on his knees in a moment, thinning in hindsight that, considering everything Stiles had been through, sudden movements might not be a good idea.

 

“Stiles...Stiles, I need you to calm down, alright? I’m here, I’ve got you,” Derek spoke, trying to remember what Laura used to say to him when he used to have panic attacks in the aftermath of the fire.   Moving slowly, Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles, bringing the teenager close to his chest, letting Stiles’ head rest with his ear pressed over Derek’s heart. Derek forced him own heart to slow, fighting his own panic, when he saw how badly Stiles was injured. Despite knowing Constiablo and his methods, Derek had hoped that Stiles would be able to run if it was needed. One look at Stiles’ wounds, however, told Derek that Stiles would barely be able to walk on his own, let alone run quickly enough to get away from a werewolf.

 

“Derek?” Stiles croaked out hoarsely, eyes glazed and foggy looking, as through the teenager was on the verge of losing consciousness.

 

“Shhh, I’ve got you. Stay with me, okay Stiles? Breathe with me, in and out,” Derek exaggerated his breathing, relief flooding though him when he heard Stiles start to try and imitate him.

 

“What are you doing here?” Stiles asked once his breathing had stabilised and his heart rate had slowed. Derek internally flinched, hearing the unspoken question beneath Stiles’ words ‘why are you here?’

 

“A member of my pack was in trouble,” Derek replied calmly, “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”


	14. Chapter 14

Lydia gripped the bottle of perfume in her hand, a look of steely determination on her face as she walked along what remained of footpath on the opposite side of the road to the warehouse Derek and Stiles were inside, the bottle angled so that the perfume poured out, leaving a wet trail on the concrete. The scent of the perfume was thick in Lydia’s nose, and she was glad that she and Erica had persuaded the boys that it needed to be Lydia who did this part of the plan...any of the other werewolves would have been overcome by the smell by now...and would also risk contaminating the scent with their own werewolf smell, alerting the rival pack to their presence.

 

While Lydia, with Jackson and Boyd keeping watch, left the scent trail that would alert Derek, Scott, Allison, Erica and Isaac were getting ready to breach the warehouse and get Stiles out. Jackson, Boyd, and Lydia (if she was needed) would be the second wave. Lydia’s job, primarily, would be applying first aid to Stiles throughout the rescue if it was needed (and after being in the claws of a rival werewolf pack for almost twenty hours, Lydia doubted that Stiles wouldn’t be needing first aid treatment of some sort. Stiles would be the sort to try and antagonise his captors after all.)

 

Even though the plan originally had been for someone to throw the bottle and let it smash, Lydia had realised that the sound of glass smashing would have carried into the building, alerting the werewolves inside that something was up. In order for their rescue to be successful, the element of surprise had to be maintained.

 

Lydia would never say it aloud, but when she thought of the situation she and her friends were about to get into, she wanted to run away, to hide and to go back to the days before werewolves and kanimas and rival packs became part of her life...but she never would. She couldn’t abandon Stiles like that. Stiles...who had faced down Peter Hale at his worst in order to protect her...Stiles, who had done all he could to protect her from Derek when the alpha thought she was the Kanima...Stiles, who was so wonderfully honest and kind and considerate towards her, never caring about what others might think, only ever thinking of others. Regardless of how scared she was of going against the Starling City pack, she’d do it one hundred times over if it was for Stiles.

 

The final few drops of perfume dripped from the mouth of the bottle, and Lydia recapped it, sliding the empty bottle into her handbag, before she briskly walked back to where Boyd and Jackson were anxiously waiting for her.

 

“Alright...let’s go save Stiles.”

 

TW/A

 

“Well...this is all very touching,” Constiablo smirked as he looked down at Derek and Stiles crouched together on the floor. Derek flashed his eyes angrily, still holding Stiles close, despite the fact that the teenager’s heart rate and breathing had returned to normal levels...at least normal for Stiles anyway.

 

“You’ve got me, let him go.” Derek growled

 

“What, Derek...what’s going on?’ Stiles asked in confusion, looking up at Derek with wide eyes. It reminded Derek of the puppy looks Scott and Isaac often used, although he had never seen Stiles resort to it.

 

“What’s going on, boy, is that your precious Derek leapt right into my trap. All I had to do was tell him I had you, and what I wanted, and he was on his way to rescue your worthless, pathetic little human life...regardless of the cost.”

 

“Cost...what cost?” Stiles asked Constiablo, before he looked back at Derek, “What did you do.”

 

“He’s going to hand over Hale Pack Lands to me. I will kill him, as the current alpha of the Hale territories, and effectively become the Alpha of Beacon County, and none will dare appose me. It is the title that dear Laura denied me, and now it is mine.”

 

Stiles’ eyes got in wider and he looked in horror at Derek.

 

“What?”

 

“I got the pack out before I came here, and your dad’s already in Starling City,” Derek told him in a soft, almost gentle voice, “When you get out, you need to find your dad. Do not go back to Beacon Hills. Scott and the others will meet up with you.”

 

Derek had kept his voice calm and his heart rate steaedy as he spoke to Stiles. Internally, though, he was beginning to panic. Surely the pack would be here soon. If they took too long they might be too late for both Stiles and Derek...and for Beacon Hills as well.

 

“No...no no no no,” Stiles shook his head in denial at what Derek was telling him...refusing to believe the unspoken fact beneath Derek’s words. Derek was going to die in order to safe Stiles’ life...and Beacon Hills wouldn’t be safe for any of them anymore.

 

Constiablo snorted, “My Gods, Derek...did you ever really think I was going to let him go? I’m going to kill your little pet, Derek, and you’re going to watch me do it...and then, once his heart has stopped beating and his pathetic life is over...once you’ve felt once again the pain of losing a member of your pack...once I’ve shattered the broken remains of what is left of your tortured soul, I will kill you and claim what is rightfully mine, and my pack will bathe in the blood of you and your pet.

 

Derek growled, putting himself between Constiablo and Stiles protectively, before his keen sense of smell detected something in the air. Outwardly he didn’t react, but in his head, he recognized the scent of Lydia’s perfume instantly. Relief flooded Derek’s mind. Help was at hand.

 

TW/A

 

Scott crouched on the roof of the building behind the warehouse Stiles was being held in. From where he was positioned, facing into the wind, Scott could smell the other pack, the sound of their heartbeats. More importantly, Scott could smell Stiles and Derek. It was worrying how strong the scent of Stiles’ blood was, but at least they were in the right place.

 

“Ready?” Allison asked in a whisper, an arrow already notched on her bowstring. Scott said nothing in reply, but shifted into his beta form, knowing that he would need his claws ready once he led the way into the warehouse. On either side of him and Allison, Isaac and Erica were already shifted, their eyes trained on the building, waiting for the signal from Lydia. Scott tensed when he first noticed the scent of the perfume, and closed his eyes, forcing himself to close his eyes, counting down in his head from thirty. Beside him, he could hear Erica doing the same in an unusually soft voice. A glance over the top of Allison’s head told Scott that Isaac was already in position, just waiting for Scott’s signal to begin the attack.   Scott forced another steadying breath, and focused on the building in front of him, and the ones inside.

 

“Ten...nine...eight...seven...six...five...four...three...two...one...Go.”

 

Scott was the first one to move, leaping forwards off the roof of the building they had climbed together, his focus on the second story window he was aiming for. He barely felt the jagged edges of the already broken glass rake against his shoulders as he flew through the window, grabbing the railing and flipping off the narrow walkway he had landed on with a single bound, dropping down and landing in a crouch of the concrete floor, ten feet from where Constiablo’s pack stood, encircling Derek and Stiles. Scott didn’t need to look to see if Erica and Isaac had made the jump across the gap between the two buildings, he could hear their threatening growls on either side of him.

 

Constiablo’s pack was still for a moment, their surprise evident on their faces, before their brains caught up with what was happening and they approached Scott, Isaac and Erica. From where he had been, crouched on the floor in between the werewolf in the chair and Stiles, Derek shifted and growled, launching himself at Constiablo, even as Scott heard the distinctive whistle of an arrow flying through the air, fired from Allison’s bow, and impacting in the heart of a large werewolf that was about to take a swipe at Scott with huge hands and even bigger claws. Scott dodged back, out of harm’s way, before he threw himself into the fight.

 

Aside from fighting Derek, Peter, and the betas, Scott didn’t have as much experience fighting werewolves...and he knew that it was showing. The first werewolf that Scott encountered left a set of four deep claw marks in Scott’s side, before Scott managed to punch the werewolf in the head, causing it to drop to the ground, unconscious.

 

TW/A

 

Over head, Allison was shooting at the werewolves, although the task was made more difficult by the fact that the werewolves were all so close together, and despite the animosity between her and Derek’s pack in the past few months, she didn’t want to hit any of them. If Erica or Isaac were preoccupied pulling arrows out of themselves, then they weren’t helping watch Scott’s back

 

From her higher ground, Allison could tell that Isaac, Erica and Scott were going well, considering how many they were against. Derek and Constiablo were going hit for hit, both of them already covered in blood as they slashed and clawed at one another.

 

Stiles had crawled to the relative shelter of a crate, cowering against it, helpless against the mass of werewolves he was currently trapped with. A door at one end of the warehouse opened, and Jackson and Boyd raced in, both of them shifted. They took one look at the situation, and ran to where they were needed most, helping Scott, Erica and Isaac with Constiablo’s betas. Even as Allison watched an internal door, leading to another room opened and four more werewolves joined the fray, all of them with the same blue eyes that all of Constiablo’s pack shared, save for the alpha himself, naturally. Allison glanced at Scott, shooting a werewolf that had been about to attack Scott’s neck, before Isaac moved into a position where he and Scott were almost fighting back to back.

 

Allison exhaled, and walked along the narrow walkway, cringing at the way it shook under her weight, until she was level with Stiles’ position. A werewolf had slunk away from the fight, and was approaching Stiles where he lay, helpless, a malicious smile on its fanged face. Allison raised her bow, but before she could even fire it the werewolf collapsed, an arrow sticking out of its body. Allison frowned, taking in the design of the arrow.

 

It wasn’t one of hers.

 

TW/A

 

Oliver took in the scene below him from his spot, concealed in the rafters of the warehouse, lowering his bow after taking out the individual...and he was nearly certain that it was a werewolf...who had been approaching Stiles. Oliver’s eyes narrowed when the girl who had been about to shoot the werewolf, lowered her bow, eyes narrowed in confusion, before she looked up, right at him...and her eyes widened in shock. Oliver was too far away to hear what she said, but he knew enough about lip reading to know that her reaction to seeing him was Oh my God.

 

A scream of pain from one of the people in the photo broke the moment, and the girl’s bow was up again, firing into the fray. One of the older werewolves fell, the teenager it was in the process of attacking dropping down with it, clutching at its stomach. Oliver cringed when he saw the blood running through the teenager’s fingers. Another of Stiles’ friends...the blonde girl, let out a loud roar and attacked the nearest person Oliver didn’t recognise from the photo with furious swipes and surprising agility, considering the leather pants she was wearing.

 

Oliver felt his chest constrict when he saw that Derek wasn’t the only one of Stiles’ friends to be carrying excessive amounts of claw and teeth. Scott...Jackson...the blonde girl...Erica?...the African American boy and the curly haired blond boy...as well as Derek...they were all the same...whether or not they were werewolves, they all had the same non-human features. The girl with the bow was the only one that looked normal...but then, Derek had looked normal up until the other, for lack of a better explanation, werewolves, had approached him at Felicity’s apartment building, and all of Stiles’ friends had looked normal in the photo that Carly had taken.

 

Oliver began climbing through the rafters, closer to where Stiles was crouched, covered in blood, and obviously in shock, if the way Stiles was shaking was anything to go by. As he climbed, he activated his coms with Diggle, deciding that Felicity was better off not hearing battle in the background.

 

“Dig...where are you?”

 

“I’m a couple of blocks out, I had to detour around a road block. What’s going on?”

 

“I’ve found Stiles...but his friends got here first.” Oliver told him in a quiet voice. Despite that, though, both Derek and the werewolf he had been fighting looked up towards Oliver, distrascted by the sound of his voice, despite the fact that Oliver had been using a hushed tone.

 

Derek, however, spent longer looking at him, which was a mistake on Derek’s part. The other werewolf took the opportunity to take a wild swing at Derek, sending him flying through the air and into one of the supports holding the narrow walkway the brunette girl was standing on. The support broke on impact, and Derek rolled to his feet and charged back at the werewolf that had hit him.

 

The walkway, probably already structurally weakened from the earthquake, gave way, collapsing from right beneath the brunette archer’s feet. She let out a scream of panic, before she hit her head on the railing, and fell to the hard concrete floor, motionless. It was Stiles’ supposed best friend, Scott, who screamed out next.

 

“Allison,” he yelled, his voice cracking under the pressure it was under.      

 

TW/A

 

Stiles blinked out of his dazed state when he heard Scott scream Allison’s name, pain thick in his voice. Stiles had only been able to watch in horror when Derek had been thrown into the support beneath Allison’s feet by Constiablo, relief flooding through him when Derek had scrambled back to his feet and charged right back at the other alpha, not realising what the impact had done to the walkway above.

 

The relief had gone when Allison...probably their best fighter behind Derek, had lost her valuable high position when the walkway collapsed. Stiles shook his head, trying to clear it, which was difficult since he hadn’t had any of his Adderal in over 24 hours, but winced when it just made his head spin more. Not trusting himself to stand, Stiles crawled over to where Allison lay,

 

“Allison,” he asked, poking her cautiously in the shoulder...”Allison,” he repeated, a little bit more urgently.

 

Allison didn’t respond, and Stiles forced himself to calm down. Allison was obviously out for the count, although from where he was kneeling beside her Stiles could tell she was breathing. Remembering the first Aid training Stiles had gone through, he checked her airway, which seemed clear, before rolling her carefully into the recovery position, at the same time very grateful that Allison was still breathing...and praying that she stayed that way. Doing mouth to mouth on Allison with Scott in the room...especially an already wolfed out Scott, would be a dangerous thing to do...even for Stiles.

 

Stiles glanced over his shoulder at the battle, ignoring the green shadow that was quickly moving through the rafters. He knew the vigilante was there...he’d seen him earlier, and he still didn’t understand why the green archer was there, but Stiles wasn’t about to question it. He and Allison were reasonably safe for the moment...it was the rest of the pack that needed aerial protection now.

 

Well...he and Allison had been reasonably safe, Stiles found himself thinking as one of the werewolves, seeing that the rest of the Beacon Hills pack were preoccupied fighting their own battles or recovering from injuries before they jumped back into the fray, was stalking across the warehouse towards Stiles and Allison. Stiles gulped and shook Allison’s shoulder again.

 

“Allison...wake up...please wake up,” he whispered. Allison, however, didn’t move. Stiles glanced at the approaching werewolf, glaring at it in a (hopefully) intimidating way, and protectively moving in front of Allison.

 

“I might not be a wolf,” Stiles said to himself, “but I protect my pack.”

 

Stiles reached for Allison’s bow, which had fallen alongside its owner, thankfully all in one piece, before he drew an arrow from the quiver on Allison’s back, remembering the few weeks Allison had spent teaching him basic weapons. At the time Stiles had thought he would have to use the skills against Derek or the betas, or not at all...but here he was, about to shoot a member of a rival pack, protecting his onetime teacher. The irony wasn’t lost on Stiles’ ADD riddled mind.

 

Notching the arrow to the bow string, Stiles drew back with his right hand, wincing as the movement and the strain it caused his muscles made his entire torso hurt...his arms, shoulders, back, ribs...everything felt like it was on fire.

 

Taking aim, Stiles forced himself to relax, to pretend he was just aiming for a target in the woods. Unbidden, his mind chose that moment to remember how many times Stiles missed the target (which had been far more that Stiles was comfortable with), but, with a focus that was out of character for him, and especially considering the fact he was almost certainly concussed, Stiles pushed the thoughts away, focusing on the werewolf.

 

“Oh, look at you...the big bad archer...” the werewolf snorted, “The helpless human protecting the hunter.”

 

“I’m not helpless,” Stiles hissed, before he let the bowstring go, sending the arrow flying...right into the chest of the werewolf. Alright, it was a little lower that Stiles would have preferred...For a werewolf it wouldn’t be a fatal injury, but still, Stiles was happy with the shot.

 

“What are you, the vigilante or something?” the werewolf hissed, the injury smoking lightly. Stiles guessed that the arrows had been laced with wolfsbane

 

“No...that would be me,” a voice from the ceiling growled, before another arrow flew through the air, impaling the Werewolves neck, the fletching sticking out of the thick neck. Stiles could tell from the angle the arrow had entered on, and how deeply the arrow was embedded, that the arrowhead was probably somewhere in the werewolves right lung.

 

The werewolf let out a gurgle and fell, dead, to the ground.

 

“Stiles...I need to you get you and the girl out,” the synthesized voice of the Vigilante told Stiles, as the archer himself dropped gracefully down onto the concrete in front of Stiles, between him and the dead werewolf.

 

Stiles shook his head, “We’re okay...go help the others...Shoot anyone that looks non-human, over 25 years old and has blue eyes. Don’t get bitten by either of the dudes with red eyes.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yep,” Stiles said, popping the p. The vigilante hesitated, before he turned and ran towards the rest of the pack. Stiles exhaled, glancing back at Allison’s unconscious body.

 

“You are going to be so pissed off that you missed meeting him...you know, cos bows and arrows are kind of your thing, and his thing.” He told her, before watching the fight. With the Vigilante’s help the tide had turned. The Beacon Hills pack had the upper hand. Isaac had recovered from where he had been badly clawed earlier, and was back in the fight, and Boyd and Jackson where just carving through Constiablo’s pack.

 

Derek too seemed to have gained the upper hand since Stiles had moved to Allison’s side. As was normal for Derek, he was still covered in blood and obviously injured, but Constiablo seemed a little worse off. The older alpha was coughing up a lot of blood, whereas Derek’s injuries seemed to only be scratches and cuts that would heal easily...even considering they had been inflicted by an alpha.

 

Stiles was momentarily distracted from the battling alphas when the side door into the warehouse burst open again, and Lydia leapt into the building, a knife in each hand and a backpack on her shoulders. She cast her eyes around the room until her gaze fell on Stiles and Allison, and she ran towards them

 

“Lydia...” Stiles began, but Lydia shushed him.

 

“Now is not the time, Stiles...Are you okay?”

 

“At the moment,” Stiles admitted honestly, knowing that there was a good chance his wounds were already infected. He knew he was already weak from blood loss, and while the adrenaline surge he’d experienced when he’d realised his friends...his pack...had come to save him was masking most of his pain, Stiles knew it wouldn’t last forever.

 

“Allison fell from the walkway when it collapsed, she’s been unconscious since then. It’s been a few minutes, but...I can’t get her to wake up.” Stiles explained. Lydia frowned and took the backpack off, undoing the zip with a quick glance over at the fighting werewolves. Stiles guessed she was looking to see if Jackson was alright.

 

Obviously satisfied that Jackson was okay, Lydia began pulling things out of the backpack. It was all first aid supplies...bandages and wrappings and antiseptic wipes and almost everything needed to apply first aid on someone. With a grim smile Lydia pulled out a small container and unscrewed the cap.

 

“Smelling salts,” she explained to Stiles, “Deaton gave me some before we left, just in case they were needed. The idea is old fashioned...and a little risky...but it still works in a worst case scenario like this.” With that she waved the container under Allison’s nose while Stiles went back to watching Derek and Constiablo fighting,. Derek definitely had the upper hand now.  

 

It was only moments later when Stiles heard Allison groaning weakly behind him, and he tore his gaze away from the fight between the two alphas, turning his full attention on the wounded hunter.

 

“Allison, wake up.” Lydia ordered.

 

“Lydia...Stiles?” Allison mumbled, cracking her eyes open, squinting up at him blearily.

 

“Yeah...the one and only,” Stiles said with a grin.

 

“What happened?” Allison asked, obviously trying to get her bearings right.

 

“The walkway you were on collapsed after Derek got thrown into one of the supports. You fell and hit your head.” Stiles explained.

 

“I used Deaton’s smelling salts on you to wake you up. Stiles looks like a strong wind would blow him over, and we can’t afford to have both of you out of commission.” Lydia added

 

Allison groaned, moving to sit up, but Stiles put his hand on her shoulder.

 

“Trust me, not a good idea...unless you want to puke.”

 

“The other pack?” Allison asked. Stiles looked back over his shoulder where the Beacon Hills pack, along with the Vigilante, were dropping the last few of Constiablo’s betas to the ground, either unconscious or dead, Stiles wasn’t sure which. Even as Stiles and Allison watched, Derek jumped athletically, using his legs to hold Constiablo’s body still, before gripping the other Alpha’s head tightly, claws digging into Constiablo’s flesh, before twisting violently. Even Stiles could hear the snap of Constiablo’s neck breaking without supernatural hearing as the alpha dropped to the ground, Derek standing over him, panting slightly.

 

Stiles swallowed, looking away, praying that his stomach would stop churning. He really didn’t want to throw up. Judging from the pain in ribs the action involved in throwing up would be very painful. Even Lydia looked a little green.

 

“All handled,” he told Allison with a weak grin.

 

“Now you look like you’re going to be sick.”  


“Tell me about it,” Stiles agreed, not about to deny it. Lydia opened her mouth to reply, but broke off when Derek staggered over to them.

 

“Are you three alright?” He asked. Scott and Jackson were making their way over, while Erica and Boyd were looking after Isaac, who was on the ground, obviously injured again. The Vigilante was curiously looking at a fallen beta, keeping his gaze down...perhaps respecting that the pack needed a few moments to pull themselves together.

 

“I’m okay,” Allison said, slowly sitting up. Stiles watched as she moved, ready to get out of the way of any vomit, but, after closing her eyes for a few moments, Allison seemed to be okay in a sitting position.

 

“What about you?” Derek asked Stiles.

 

Stiles shrugged, “I think the adrenalin’s starting to wear off,” he admitted, the pain which had been nicely muted now starting to get stronger.

 

“Can you walk, we need to get out of here?” Derek asked. Stiles nodded, and Derek helped pull him to his feet, supporting most of his weight as Scott and Jackson reached them. After sending Stiles a questioning look, to which Stiles smiled in response, Scott crouched to check on Allison, while Jackson had pulled Lydia into a tight hug, carding his fingers through her hair; both werewolves completely absorbed in their respective girlfriend.

 

Derek had his back to the rest of the warehouse, focused on keeping Stiles upright. Boyd and Erica were focused on Isaac, who was healing quickly, from what Stiles could see. Scott and Jackson were busy fussing over Allison and Lydia, and the Vigilante was at the opposite end of the warehouse, a hand pressed to his ear, as if he was using some hidden communicator...which Stiles reasoned he probably was.

 

And one of the betas had crawled to Constaiblo’s chair and had pulled a gun out from beneath it. Stiles felt his heart leap into his throat when he spotted the weapon as it was aimed at Derek’s back as he looked over Derek’s broad shoulder.

 

“Derek, look out,” Stiles yelped, pushing Derek down and away as the sound of the gun going off echoed through the warehouse.


	15. Chapter 15

Jackson startled, not that he would ever admit it, when he heard Stiles shout...less than a second before the gun went off. Instinctively he threw himself over Lydia protectively, Scott doing the same to Allison beside him. The room went eerily silent for a few seconds, as if the volume had been muted, before the sound came back, loud and clear through his keen werewolf ears.

 

“Stiles!” Scott screamed, and Jackson whipped his head up, looking towards where he had last seen Stiles, mere metres from where he lay over Lydia. Beneath him, Lydia squirmed up, her moth falling open in a gasp as she took in the scene.

 

Stiles had been successful in pushing Derek away, but he’d had neither the strength, nor the opportunity to get out of the way himself. By some miracle he was still standing, despite the rapidly spreading red patch on the front of his top. As Jackson watched Stiles let out a cough, blood trickling from his mouth, and dropped heavily to his knees, almost keeling over. Derek, however, was there, catching him, and laying him down gently on the ground.

 

“You idiot...why the hell did you do that?” Derek yelled as Scott went to Stiles’ side, pulling his shirt off and pressing it against the wound in Stiles’ abdomen. Jackson clutched onto Lydia as she let out a sob, rubbing her back reassuringly, knowing there was little he, or anyone else could do to help Stiles.    

Jackson blinked, and glanced towards the Beta who had shot Stiles. The beta in question was lying on its stomach, an arrow sticking out of its back, although somehow it was still moving. Erica, Boyd and Isaac, however, leapt on it, and the beta’s movements quickly stopped.

 

The Vigilante raced past Jackson’s pack mates, approaching where Stiles lay. He had his hand to his ear, obviously talking to someone via a hidden communication device, like the ones used in spy shows and movies.

 

“Dig...get the ambulance out here...now. Stiles just got shot.”

 

“Paramedics are on their way, five minutes out...the police too...you might want to get out of there.” The voice on the other end of the communicator told the Vigilante, Jackson’s supernatural hearing allowing him to eavesdrop on the conversation.

 

“Not yet,” the Vigilante argued, before dropping his hand and sliding down beside Stiles, Scott and Derek, putting his hands over Scott’s and helping press down on the gunshot wound. Stiles’ face was even more pale than usual, his eyes glazed with pain as he gazed up at Derek, who was cradling Stile’s’ head in his lap.

 

Derek growled at the Vigilante, but the vigilante didn’t show any sign of being scared of the alpha werewolf...which just made Jackson think that the archer was just as much of an idiot as Jackson’s adopted father thought he was.

 

“I’m trying to save him...paramedics are five minutes away, if you want him to make it till then you’re going to have to trust me, Derek.” The vigilante said in his synthesised voice.

 

“Dude, he helped us fight Constiablo’s pack...I think he’s on our side,” Scott pointed out.  Derek gave the Vigilante a menacing glare, before he turned his attentions to Stiles.

 

“Derek...it hurts,” Stiles whimpered from where he lay, incapacitated on the floor “I take back everything mean I said to you when you got shot”. Jackson cringed when he saw the pain written across Stiles’ face. Sure, Stiles was annoying prat a lot of the time, and he drove Jackson insane with his endless talking, but he didn’t deserve everything he had been put through.

 

“Shhh...It’s okay, Stiles...you’re going to be okay.” Derek offered soothingly as Boyd, Erica and Isaac joined them, having returned to their human form. They were all drenched in blood, although Jackson knew not all of it was theirs. Erica sobbed when she saw how badly Stiles was hurt, and buried her face into Boyd’s chest. Isaac’s eyes were filled with horror.

 

Jackson didn’t need his superior senses to know that Erica wasn’t the only one crying. Scott’s shoulders were shaking as tears rolled down his cheeks. Jackson couldn’t blame him. He couldn’t remember a time when Scott and Stiles weren’t together. The whole way through School they had been inseparable. For so long Stiles and Scott had been all each other had, as far as close friends went. Even though Jackson wasn’t particularly close to the pair, he knew that, if Stiles died Scott would never be the same again

 

Stiles coughed, “Hey...Scotty?”

 

“Yeah Stiles.”

 

“I’m sorry...I’m sorry that I dragged you out in the woods that...that night. I should have...should have let you stay at home. Everything that’s happened to you since then is my fault.”

 

“No...” Scott shook his head, tears rolling down his cheeks, his human features back in place, “No, dude...no it’s not.   It was never your fault...I never blamed you, not for a second.”

 

“Look after my dad for me, okay? He’s going to take it hard. You...you and your mom need to look after him and make sure he doesn’t drink too much and that he still eats healthy, okay?”

 

Scott sobbed, nodding his head, still pressing his hands against the bullet wound, “Stiles...don’t leave...don’t go...please,” Scott begged.

 

Jackson cleared his throat, willing the moisture gathering in his eyes to go away. In his arms Lydia had tears rolling down her cheeks, and Jackson hugged her, rubbing her back as Allison slowly crawled to Scott’s side, putting her hand comfortingly on his shoulder.

 

“Derek?” Stiles croaked, “Look after the others, won’t you? Don’t let them get into too much trouble. They’re your pack...Even Scott and Allison. They need you to be strong for them. They need their alpha.”

 

Jackson blinked when he heard the strain in Derek’s voice when the alpha spoke, as if Derek was about to start crying.

 

“No...no...You’re not doing this, Stiles...you hear? You’re going to be there to keep the pack in line...to make sure I do a good enough job as being an alpha to the pack. You’re just as much pack as everyone else. You, Erica, Isaac, Boyd, Scott, Jackson, Lydia, Danny...Peter and Allison...you’re all my pack. I can’t lose a member of my pack again...I can’t go through it again.”

 

By the end of his speech Derek had tears rolling down his cheeks as he pleaded with Stiles to stay alive...to keep his eyes open. Stiles, blinked, looking up at Derek weakly, a small smile on his face.

 

“I’m pack?” he asked.

 

Derek nodded, “You’re pack,” he confirmed, “You’ve always been pack.”

 

“Awesome,” Stiles grinned, before his eyes fluttered closed, and he went limp. Jackson’s heart leapt up into his throat and Lydia stiffened.

 

“Stiles” she screamed fearfully. The Vigilante moved, pulling off his gloves and feeling at Stiles’ neck for a pulse

 

“He’s still alive,” the Vigilante told them, although Jackson knew all the werewolves knew from the sound of Stiles’ beating heart, although it was undeniable that Stiles’ heart rate was slowing down.

 

“Listen,” Isaac spoke up, and they all went quiet. In the distance Jackson could hear the wailing of sirens...the ambulance that the vigilante had called for, as well as three police cars.

 

“Boyd...Jackson...Get Erica, Isaac, Lydia and Allison out of here. Scott or I will call you once we know where Stiles has been taken.” Derek ordered, back in control of his emotions. Jackson rose to his feet, pulling Lydia up with him, not going to disobey Derek’s orders...not when Derek was on the edge of losing it already, although he did note that, wisely, Derek hadn’t tried to separate Scott from Stiles.

 

Isaac crossed over to where Allison was kneeling and helped her up, slinging her arm over his shoulder. Boyd led the group across the warehouse to the side door, where they all paused, looking back at the vigilante, Derek and Scott, Stiles motionless on the ground beneath them.

 

“Will we ever see him again?” Lydia asked in a soft voice. Jackson wiped his face, brushing aside a few stray tears that had dared to fall from his eyes.

 

“It’s Stilinski,” he told her, as if that explained everything; “If anyone is stubborn enough to survive getting tortured, and then shot...it’s him.”

 

TW/A

 

Oliver watched, crouched on the rooftop of the warehouse he had found Stiles and his friends, as the ambulance carrying Stiles sped away, taking him to the nearest hospital. Derek Hale crouched beside him, a look of fear on his face as he watched the ambulance leave what was left of the Glades, a police car carrying Scott and Quinton Lance following close behind. Both of them had slipped out a broken window and scaled the rear facing wall moments before the police and the paramedics burst into the warehouse, but not before Oliver had thought to give Scott what he hoped was a convincing enough lie for the paramedics. Lance and the other police officers would, thanks to the arrows Oliver hadn’t had the opportunity to collect, know he had been involved, but with Laurel on the warpath Oliver thought it would be prudent to keep away from the police for the moment. He was still a wanted criminal after all.

 

“How did you know my name?” Derek asked, breaking the silence between the pair once the ambulance had finally passed out of sight. Oliver frowned beneath his hood.

 

“I heard the boy call you by name...” Oliver said, using his voice changer, “I guessed that he was talking about you, considering he was shoving you out of the way.”

 

Derek snorted, “I might not be able to see beneath the hood...but I have my own hidden talents...like knowing that you just lied. Don’t bother trying to hide it...I can smell Felicity all over you. Who are you...her boyfriend or something?”

 

“Or something,” Oliver replied, “what about you...why are you so familiar with her scent.”

 

“You’ve seen my face...I know you have suspicions about what I am. It may have been many years since I’ve seen Felicity, but I have a good memory for scents.   You smell of my sister’s old best friend, and you can’t deny it. That’s why you came to rescue Stiles...because Felicity is close to you, and she wanted you to save her brother.”

 

Oliver said nothing, unable to believe that Derek had pegged him so easily. He should have known that Derek, who had just practically confirmed his true nature to him, would have been able to smell Felicity’s scent on him. Oliver thought about how he had hugged Felicity just before heading out to follow Derek. It had been hours ago, but obviously Felicity’s scent was still strong enough to identify.

 

“Was your sister...like you as well?” Oliver finally asked.

 

Derek stiffened slightly at the question before he responded, “Yes...she was. Felicity, as far as I know, never found out about our true nature. We were all told to act human whenever she was around, or we were spending time with her and Stiles.”

 

“Are you going to tell her? Felicity’s brother just got tortured and might die because of his connections to you.”

 

Derek’s gaze became distance, and Oliver could see the uncertainty written on the other man’s face.

 

“It was always Stiles’ decision on whether he told his family or not. He said that his dad was safer not knowing...that if he knew he’d try and get involved, and would get hurt...or worse. We always respected his decision.”

 

Oliver nodded, accepting the response, and allowing himself to admire Derek a little more because of the way Derek respected Stiles’ wishes. Deep down, Oliver knew that he blamed Derek for what had happened to Stiles, despite knowing that he didn’t have the full story. Stiles was just a teenager, and Derek, being the adult and the leader of the group, should have done more to protect him.

 

Still...Oliver didn’t have the time to interrogate Derek. He needed to get back to Verdant and to Felicity. He needed to be there for her when she got the call from the hospital or her step dad about Stiles’ condition. He rose to his feet, moving to the edge of the roof, where he could climb down and slip away unnoticed by the police officers who had stayed behind and processed the crime scene. Derek, however, didn’t move.

 

“Will you go to the hospital?” Oliver asked. Derek hesitated, before nodding, rising to his feet and following after Oliver.

 

“Not at first, but later. I need to check on the others first.” Derek replied once they were back at street level.

 

Oliver nodded approvingly and headed in the direction of his motorcycle, while Derek lifted his nose, sniffing the air, before he loped off in the opposite direction. Oliver ran the whole way back to his motorbike, throwing himself astride and kicking the engine into life and roaring back towards Verdant.

 

TW/A

 

Felicity paced the basement of Verdant nervously, rubbing her arms with her hands. It felt as though hours had passed since Oliver had headed off to follow Derek Hale. It even felt like hours had passed since she’d last heard from either of her teammates...and she had never felt so alone and so useless in her life...not even when her mom was dying, and the months that followed. Her phone was clutched in her hand, and she had a communicator turned on and shoved in her ear, waiting for news...any news.

 

Scenarios raced through her head, possibilities of what was happening. Her mind spent more times going over the negative ones...Stiles dying...Oliver dying...John dying...Diggle dying...Scott dying...Derek dying...Lydia Martin dying...Jackson dying...Erica Reyes dying...any of the kids that had come to Starling city in order to save Stiles but Felicity didn’t know dying...some of them dying...all of them dying.

 

Felicity sobbed, sliding against the wall, drawing her legs up to her chest and burying her face in her knees as she sobbed, her shoulder’s shaking forcefully as she sobbed, her mind too wrought by fear and grief that she wasn’t able to reconcile with the fact that everyone might still be alive.

 

The door to the lair opened, and startled, Felicity jumped, looking towards the stairs from her position on the floor. Her breath caught in her throat as Oliver almost ran down the stairs, Diggle close behind him.  

 

“Oliver!” Felicity yelped, scrambling to her feet. Oliver strode across the basement towards her, and pulled her into a hug. Felicity clung onto him, clutching onto the soft material of his jumper...his jumper...why wasn’t he still wearing his hooded jacket,

 

“Stiles?” She asked, “Did you find him? Oliver...tell me?” Felicity felt tears well in her eyes again as Oliver guided her to her chair, crouching down in front of her and cupping her face in his hands.

 

“I did find Stiles.” He told her in a calm, steady voice, “He’d been beaten up pretty bad when I got there, but otherwise he seemed to be okay. Derek Hale was met outside your apartment building by two men, who escorted him to a warehouse in the Glades. That was where Stiles was being held. The rest of Stiles’ friends arrived just before me, and they had already breached the warehouse when I got there. Stiles was protecting one of the others, who’d been injured, and seemed to be able to hold his own, so I went and helped his friends. We thought we’d got them all...but then one of them pulled out a gun and tried to shoot Derek.”

 

Felicity gasped, placing her hands over her mouth as a strangled scream slipped out, knowing what she was about to be told.

 

Oliver cringed, “Stiles pushed Derek out of the way, but in the process he got hit.”

 

“Is...Is he dead?’ Felicity sobbed. Oliver ran his fingers through her hair reassuringly, moving closer to Felicity.

 

“No...Not the last time I saw him, when he was being loaded into the ambulance. He was alive then, but unconscious. His friend Scott went with Lance to the hospital with him. You should expect a phone call from Officer Lance soon telling you that Stiles had been found.”

 

Felicity sobbed, tears rolling down her cheeks, and Oliver embraced her tightly, Felicity clinging back onto him.

 

“I’m sorry...I’m sorry...I should have protected him. I should have gotten him out straight away, before guns started getting pulled out.”

 

Shaking her head, Felicity, surprising herself at her own boldness, put her fingers on Oliver’s mouth, silencing him.

 

“No,” she told him in a firm voice, “It’s not. There were eight teenagers in that warehouse, plus Derek. You’re only one man. How many of those teenagers were about to die before you saved them. Stiles is tough...he’ll get through this. He’s not dead yet.”

 

Oliver smiled proudly at Felicity, still hugging her close to his chest, as he tenderly kissed the top of her head, before he rubbed her back reassuringly, both of them oblivious to Diggle, who was standing near the stairs, watching over them, wondering how long it would take for Oliver and Felicity to finally realise they were made for one another.

 

Felicity hugged Oliver tightly, not really wanting to let him go. She knew she had put up a brave front, but if Oliver let her go she wasn’t so sure if she would be able to keep the facade up. Stiles’ kidnapping had shaken her...and Felicity was only just beginning to understand how much. Sure, she’d been in dangerous situations before, mostly thanks to her allegiance with Oliver, but this time it hadn’t been her in danger...or Oliver...or Diggle...but Stiles...her dear little baby brother with his ADHD and his awkward, lanky, gangly body that didn’t know how to protect itself from getting hurt. She had been more frightened when Stiles had been missing than she ever had during the earthquake, or any of the other shenanigans that she’d got up to since Oliver had revealed his secret identity to her.

 

Felicity wasn’t sure how much time had passed since Oliver had hugged her before they broke apart at the sound of Felicity’s phone ringing, breaking the heavy silence of the basement. Felicity glanced at the screen, which had John Stilinski’s name and number being the one making the call, and she quickly accepted the call.

 

“John?” she asked anxiously.

 

“Felicity...they found him.”

 

“Oh, thank God...Where are you and I’ll come to you...how is he...is he okay...who was the one who found him? Felicity babbled, even though she already knew the answer to most of the questions.

 

“I’m at Starling City General...They just took him into surgery. Can...Can you get here soon?”

 

“About half an hour from where I am. I’m leaving now. I’ll be there soon...I promise.”

 

“Be careful...is someone else there with you?”

 

“Yeah,” Felicity glanced at Oliver, her eyes shining with tears.

 

“It might be better if you get them to drive. I don’t think either of us is in the condition to be in charge of a motor vehicle.”

 

“Okay,” Felicity agreed, ‘I love you.”

 

“I love you too,” Felicity,” John replied, before hanging up. Felicity lowered her phone.

 

“They’ve taken him into surgery at Starling City General... that’s all he would tell me. Can...Can one of you guys take me?”

 

“Of course,” Oliver replied, “You don’t even need to ask.”

 

“Oliver’s right...you don’t have to do this on your own.” Diggle added. Felicity looked between the two men, a small smile, lacking the happiness and joy that Felicity usually exuded, on her face.

 

“Thank you...I don’t know what I would do without you guys.”


	16. Chapter 16

John Stilinski knew far more about hospital chairs than anyone ever should. After he spent so much time with Claudia when she was in hospital he knew far more than most about the cold, hard plastic chairs that lined hospital waiting rooms, walkways, and sat beside the beds of patients. The concept was good, brilliant even. It was great being able to sit at a relative’s bedside and keep them company while they were ill or injured, or to be able to sit and wait tests were being conducted or people were admitted.

 

What John had never understood, despite his exceptional experience of hospital chairs, was why they made him feel so uncomfortable...even when he wasn’t sitting in them.

 

Maybe it was the look on a person’s face when they were in a hospital chair, he mused, glancing at Scott. The teenager was sitting on one of the plastic chairs in the small, private hospital room they had been ushered into, his elbows resting on his knees, hunched forward, with his hands supporting his head, and a lost, almost vacant look on his face.

 

John would be willing to bet, if he were a betting man, that Scott wouldn’t even be aware of how uncomfortable the chair was...as his mind was obviously somewhere else...in the warehouse where he’d found Stiles, maybe...or perhaps back in Beacon Hills itself, where Melissa was probably going mad with worry about her son...or maybe...just maybe...it was elsewhere in the hospital...where Stiles was fighting for his life.

 

John had been with Officer Lance when the former detective’s phone had rung, and had gone to get a mug of what passed as coffee from the break room while the man answered, knowing staying around would be rude. By the time John had returned Quentin Lance had got his things together and had been heading out the door, followed by a few of the other officers that had been working on Stiles’ case. John had been about to follow them when Quentin had reminded him that technically he couldn’t go out in the field with the other officers. His position as Sherriff of Beacon County had little meaning here in Starling City. Besides...it was probably a false alarm.

 

It was because of the high likelihood of the lead not going anywhere that John was surprised, forty-five minutes later, when his mobile phone had rung. It had been Officer Lance, telling him that Stiles had been located and was being rushed to Starling City general hospital. One of the other officers had driven John to the hospital...arriving only minutes after Stiles, Officer Lance and most surprisingly, Scott McCall...who John had thought was back in Beacon Hills.

 

Perhaps the most alarming part had been the amount of blood on Scott’s clothing...presumably not his own, considering physically the teenager looked healthy, if a little pale. For years now John had come to think of Scott almost as a second son, and, at the sight of the teenager, covered in blood and obviously distressed, he had crossed the busy room and pulled Scott into a hug. Scott had hugged back, tightly clinging onto John’s jacket. John had quickly realised that Scott was crying, John’s shirt soaking up the teenager’s tears like a sponge.

 

“I’m sorry,” Scott had sobbed at the time, ‘I’m sorry...I couldn’t protect him. I’m sorry he got hurt...I’m so sorry about everything,” Scott had stammered between sobs, his breathing uneven...and John was a little worried about the teenager having an asthma attack right there and then.

 

“What happened?” John asked Lance, “Where the hell is my son?” he demanded, rubbing Scott’s back soothingly at the same time, trying to calm the teenager before his breathing got any worse, while at the same time worrying where Scott’s inhaler was. It didn’t look like Scott had a backpack with him, and the t-shirt and pants Scott was wearing didn’t look like they had any pockets that Scott would have put his inhaler in.

 

“He’s in pre-op at the moment, I’ll tell you once we’re in a more private area,” the former detective had offered, ducking away to have a quick conversation with a nurse. John looked away, running Scott’s back and holding the teenager in a hug as he tried to get Scott calmed down. John Stilinski’s mind, however, wasn’t on Scott at all, but Stiles. All John wanted was to see Stiles, to see that his precious baby boy was safe after his ordeal.

 

It was obvious that Stiles...or somebody else...had been badly injured, judging by the fact that Scott was covered in blood that was not his own...and the fact that John hadn’t been given the option of going to see his son...the fact that Stiles was being prepped for surgery within minutes of arriving at the hospital...it was an big hint that Stiles was badly hurt.

 

John Stilinski was barely aware of officer Lance leading him and Scott after the nurse, into an elevator where they were taken up to the surgical floor of the hospital, and then lead into a small, private waiting room, the walls lined with chairs, a few out of date magazines tossed on a coffee table, with a taller table in another corner with an urn of hot water, and the equipment necessary for making coffee or tea.

 

Quentin Lance had steered John into a chair, Scott slumping down in the one beside it, his gaze distant and oddly haunted.

 

“John...you with me?”

 

John nodded, “What happened?” he asked again, “is my son going to be okay. He’s all I’ve got.”

 

“I don’t know. I’m not going to lie to you...it didn’t look great when we arrived at that warehouse. Your son...I’d say he’s got someone watching out for him...if you believe in that. When we arrived there were about twenty five bodies on the ground, plus Mr. McCall and Stiles. Of the twenty five, eight are dead, the rest are either still unconscious, or regained consciousness after our arrival. They’ve been taken to another medical centre closer to police HQ so they can be questioned once they’re well enough. Some of the bodies had obviously been taken down by the Vigilante, although many of the wounds don’t match with his MO...and it doesn’t explain how Scott here was involved. As for Stiles...he’d been shot in the abdomen, and it looked like he’d been roughed up a fair bit too since he’d first been grabbed. Stiles was unconscious when we arrived, but Scott was applying pressure to the bullet wound. Still, the kid had lost a lot of blood, so the moment the paramedic’s got him stabilized, they brought him here.”

 

John exhaled shakily, feeling nauseated at the news. His son had been shot, and had been ‘roughed up’ as well. John knew that being ‘roughed up’, could mean anything, from a few bumps and bruises, to broken bones, to minor cuts and abrasions, to burns, to minor stab wounds. It could even mean that Stiles had been raped by his kidnappers.

 

As if Quentin could read John’s mind, he had shaken his head, “no signs of...of sexual assault, although his t-shirt was pretty much shredded. It looked like someone had whipped up his back pretty badly, and his chest was badly bruised...the paramedics guessed that he’d broken a few of his ribs. There was a cut on his head that looked like it had bled a bit, but it had stopped bleeding long before we arrived, so there is the possibility of a concussion...but other than that there wasn’t anything obvious...I’m not a doctor though. I probably should be waiting for the kid’s doctor to come and tell you all this...but...but I know that, if it was my daughter in there...I’d want to know”

 

“Oh, thank God.” John whispered, closing his eyes, and mentally thanking Claudia as well for watching over their son. It was bad enough, with Stiles being shot, but John tried to reassure himself that it could have been much worse.

 

Lance had left them alone then, heading off to contact his superiors and tell them what had happened. John got to his feet and began pacing the room, while Scott sat in the chair, a look of pure dejection on his face

 

An hour passed in silence, broken only when John ducked out to call Felicity and tell her what had happened. In the little waiting room Scott and John were silent, both too caught up in their own grief, regrets and worrying to begin to know what should be said.. John missed Stiles and his constant chatter, and, not for the first time since Stiles had gone missing, wished that he had never sent Stiles away in the first place.

 

Leaning against a wall, John looked over at Scott, still sitting motionless in the hospital chair, Stiles’ blood dried onto his hands and staining his clothes, and he finally opened his mouth

 

“Scott...what on earth were you doing here? You could have been hurt too.”

 

TW/A

 

Scott lifted his head when he heard John say his name, brought out of his own thoughts by the way John’s voice sounded. Hoarse, cracking with emotion and lack of use. Scott hadn’t seen Stiles’ dad like this since the months following Claudia Stilinksi’s death.

 

It was a kick in the guts, to see so John so wrought thin by his emotions. The Sherriff was one of the strongest people Scott knew, more Scott’s dad than his biological father ever had been. Scott knew that Stiles being so badly injured would have an effect on the Sherriff...but to witness the anguish that was clear on the older man’s face...it made Scott realise how much Stiles and his dad relied upon each other.

 

Scott knew that Stiles was borderline obsessive about keeping his dad alive...the fact that Stiles listened to the police scanner and so closely watched his father’s diet was testament to that, but it had been a long time when since the tables had turned and it was the Sherriff who was so worried about Stiles. Scott knew that the Sherriff was probably just as obsessive about keeping Stiles alive as Stiles was about him, but the fact was that Scott didn’t see it firsthand very often.

“Scott?’ the Sherriff asked again, and Scott blinked out of his thoughts, realising that he’d missed something that the Sherriff had said.

 

“Sorry...I was thinking about...about some stuff,” Scott apologised. The Sherriff approached him, sitting down beside Scott and resting his hand on Scott’s shoulder.

 

“It’s okay...do you want to tell me what you’re doing here in Starling City? Does your mother know you’re here?”

 

Scott nodded, “She knows...I told her just before we left. We thought we could help,” he offered.

 

“We...there are more of you guys here?”

 

“Allison, Lydia, Isaac, Erica, Boyd, Jackson, and Derek Hale. Jackson talked his dad into letting us use his private plane,” Scott sighed.

 

“You talked...how the hell did you do that after all the crap between you two and Jackson this year...I thought Stiles was the brains behind those kind of idiotic schemes...never mind...What the hell were you all thinking...you could have been killed...there was guns there...not to mention the Vigilante. I don’t think he would have targeted any of you...but you never know.”

 

“We didn’t know the Vigilante was there until after the fight started. We....we didn’t realise the gun was there either. One...one of those guys...he was going to shoot Derek. Stiles saw and pushed Derek out of the way...he got hit instead.” Scott broke off, sobbing. John shook his head.

 

“Why does that not surprise me? Stiles would be the sort to do something like that...but Derek Hale...seriously?” John muttered to himself, “It wasn’t that long ago when Stiles tried to get him arrested for his sister’s murder. Now he’s taken a bullet for the guy. Wait...where the hell are they now?”

 

“um...” Scott stammered, “well...we kind of thought that, going from their records, especially with Derek and Isaac, it would be best if they weren’t around when the police got there, so they left. Derek and the Vigilante were still there when Stiles got taken by the ambulance though...they were on the rooftop.”

 

John rubbed is hands over his face and groaned wearily, a gesture Scott had seen many times when Stiles was at his most exuberant or having one of his more reckless ideas.

 

“Scott...this is bad. You do realise leaving a crime scene like that makes them all suspects. Hell, Derek left with the Vigilante who is a known murderer.” John frowned, his voice rising

 

“We couldn’t not help Stiles, sir,” Scott explained, “none of us...not even Jackson...we knew we could help, and I don’t think we could have lived with it if...if something happened to Stiles and we could have prevented it.”

 

“I...I know, Scott,” John said, ‘and...and I’m glad you were there for Stiles...to look after him until the police and the paramedics got there. You’re a good friend, you know. You always have been”

 

“Not as good as Stiles,” Scott replied automatically, thinking of how lately he’s been pushing Stiles aside, preferring the company of Allison and then Isaac over Stiles. Stiles, who’d been his only ally and mentor...the one who’d helped him learn control and kept him from killing anyone after he’d first been bitten. The one who’d never wavered from his position at Scott’s side.

 

John smiled, but didn’t get a chance to respond, with the waiting room door opening and Felicity bursting inside, accompanied by one man Scott didn’t know, and two men he did. Officer Lance was the last one into the room, closing the door behind him as Felicity hugged John tightly. Scott eyed the two other men in the room. One was a solidly built African American man with a kind looking face who inclined his head politely in Scott’s direction. The other was a man who Scott knew from scent, although he looked different when he wasn’t wearing his hooded green jacket.

 

“John...is there any news?” Felicity asked, once she took a step away from John. The Sherriff shook his head, and Felicity sniffed, glancing downwards.

 

“It hasn’t been very long...these things take time.” The man who was also the Vigilante said reassuringly.

 

Felicity nodded, taking a steadying breath, “John...Scott, this is John Diggle, a friend of mine, and Oliver Queen, my boss slash friend.” Felicity introduced. Scott’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

 

The Vigilante of Starling City was Oliver Queen...the same Oliver Queen that Stiles had spoken about the last time he and Scott skyped one another.

 

Stiles was never going to believe this

 

TW/A

 

Quentin Lance had been surprised to see that Oliver Queen and his bodyguard were accompanying Felicity Smoak when the young computer tech had emerged from the elevator on the surgical floor of Starling City General hospital. He knew that she worked for Queen consolidated, but she was in the tech department, far low down the organization, and far beyond the sights of higher ups like Oliver Queen.

 

“Officer Lance,” Felicity gushed, almost running up to him, “Have you seen Stiles...Have you heard any news.”

 

“No...but your step dad and one of your brother’s friends is in there...I’m sure they’ll both be glad to see you.”

 

“Thank you, Officer Lance,” Felicity nodded “for everything...for helping find him, for helping us get him back alive.”

 

Lance knew what Felicity was really saying ‘thank you for working with the vigilante to get my little brother back.’

 

“If I might say, Ms Smoak,” Lance replied, “I think our...mutual friend...for once I’m glad he’s around. Things could have turned out alot worse had he not been there”

 

Felicity gave a grim smile, and turned to head into the room Lance had gestured. Oliver and his bodyguard went to follow, but Lance held up his hand.

 

“Officer Lance?” Oliver asked questioningly.

 

“Felicity Smoak is a grown woman, and she can choose for herself who she spends her time with. I will offer you this warning, Mr. Queen. You hurt her...and I will not be the only one in this town wanting your blood. That girl has friends in places that you cannot even dream of, and unless you want to end up dead in an alleyway, you do the right thing by that girl...the right thing that you couldn’t do with either of my daughters.” Lance warned.

 

“That’s...oddly paternal of you to warn me off like that” Oliver frowned vaguely.

 

“Let’s just say my daughter has already lost her boyfriend...she doesn’t need to lose another friend so soon after losing Tommy.” With that said, Lance stepped aside, allowing Oliver and his bodyguard to follow after Felicity. He brought up the rear, wanting to check on John Stilinski and Scott McCall.

 

Personally, Quentin didn’t know how John had lasted. It had been hard enough to bring up his girls right when he and his wife had been close and had been a united front as far as parenting was concerned (although he still felt that, in some ways they’d dropped the ball a little with Sara)...he didn’t know how John had done it, brining up Stiles and Felicity after losing his wife when Stiles was so young. Over the day he had spent with John when they’d been searching for Stiles, Quentin had learned a lot about Stiles and his childhood, and the relationship between father and son.

 

Although strained in recent times, they had always been close, and Quentin had seen the devastation on the other man’s face when he saw the crime scene photos from Felicity’s apartment...especially when John had seen the blood smeared onto the carpet, highlighted by the small markers that had been laid out to draw investigators attention to certain details. It was times like those that Quentin hated it when it was the children of law enforcement involved in cases. John had known full well that with every minute that passed, it became less likely that they’d find Stiles alive...and the prospect of losing his son had been killing him.

 

Quentin closed the door to the small waiting room, glancing across as Felicity hugged her step father, before introducing him to Oliver and his bodyguard...John Diggle. Beside his best friend’s dad, Scott’s jaw had dropped slightly, and Quentin had rolled his eyes and moved to the opposite corner of the room, wondering if Oliver Queen ever got tired of getting that reaction from people when they were introduced. He personally doubted it...the multi Billionaire seemed to bask in the sort of awe his name inspired, but Lance knew that, if it was him, it would drive him insane.

 

Really, he should be taking advantage of the moment to question Scott. It was obvious to anyone that the Vigilante hadn’t been the only one inflicting damage to other people, and Scott was the only witness for the moment, until the other victims they had found in the warehouse had regained consciousness and were in the condition to be questioned, but Quentin couldn’t bring himself to question the boy yet. Scott was obviously in shock still, and it wouldn’t be fair on the kid to question him while his best friend’s fate was so uncertain. The majority of the bodies had been killed by the vigilante, although two had been slain by arrows that were not the type favoured by the Vigilante. The other two dead bodies had been badly slashed up, as if they’d been attacked by some sort of animal....so it wasn’t as if the kid had done any damage himself.  

 

Besides, as Scott was still underage Lance knew that he couldn’t do anything until he’d spoken to the boy’s mother. It would be better for everyone involved if he waited until Stiles was out of surgery...and then he would try and get some answers.

 

His ass was already in trouble over the earthquake situation...he didn’t need the chief of police breathing down his neck any more than he was already.  


	17. Chapter 17

Derek was certain he had never seen his pack look more sombre than it did at the moment, huddled in a abandoned building two miles from the warehouse where Stiles had been shot. None of the pack was talking, all of them sitting or laying on the ground, their eyes downcast. Boyd and Derek were the only exceptions, standing up and keeping watch over the rest of the pack. Isaac and Erica were almost sitting on top of Derek’s feet, leaning wearily against his legs, and Lydia and Allison were sitting beside one another, with Jackson on Lydia’s other side.

 

Lydia had patched up Allison as well as she could, and she was satisfied that Allison would be okay, having escaped the fight with what appeared to be only a minor concussion. Other than Allison, the rest of the pack seemed to be okay, other than being physically and mentally exhausted by the events of the last twenty four hours.

 

It was hard to believe that Stiles had been taken less than a day ago. This time yesterday he was happy and safe in Felicity’s apartment, but now he was fighting for his life in hospital, a bullet in his abdomen that had been meant for Derek’s back.

 

There was a part of Derek that hated himself for not being aware enough of his surroundings...of not realising the danger he was in until Stiles yelled his name and pushed him down. He’d been too focused on Stiles, both Derek and his inner wolf desperate to get Stiles out of the warehouse and to the safety of a hospital, the thick smell of Stiles’ blood in the air of the warehouse bringing Derek’s instinct to protect his pack to the forefront.

 

Derek was drawn from his musing when Allison’s phone chimed, and in the gloom of the abandoned building the teenaged hunter’s face was lit up when she checked it.

 

“Scott just texted me...they’ve taken Stiles into surgery...he doesn’t know how long it will take. He’s with Stiles’ dad,” she told the rest of the pack once she’d finished reading the message. Isaac whimpered and tilted his head back, resting it against Derek’s thigh, and Erica’s shoulder’s tensed, her fingernails becoming claws as her control slipped at the news.

 

“At...at least we know he made it to the hospital okay,” Lydia offered practically. Derek had to concede that she had a point. When he’d last seen Stiles the boy’s breathing had become laboured, and Derek had been fairly sure that the teenager had been perilously close to dying in the warehouse before he could get the medical treatment he so obviously needed.

 

Stiles’ deteriorating condition had been one of the reasons that Derek had sent the pack away. He knew that he couldn’t let them watch if Stiles died before help arrived. Boyd, Erica and Jackson would probably lose control in their grief, although they all outwardly pretended to not care very much about Stiles, and Derek doubted that Lydia would be able to pull Jackson back if she was grief stricken herself. Scott wouldn’t be able to help, probably being consumed by his own grief at losing his best friend...his brother, and Allison was injured. It could have ended up being a disaster.  

 

As well as the potential fall out of the teenaged werewolves losing control and risking the lives of Lydia, Allison and the Vigilante, there was the emotional trauma and lifelong scarring that was involved when you watched someone you love die in front of you. Derek knew all about it, his memories of Paige forever tainted by those last few horrid hours, the feel of her neck snapping beneath his hands, his memories of his family filled with their screams that echoed through Beacon Hills the night of the fire, the scent of burned flesh that Derek had inhaled with every breath from the night of the fire up until he and Laura had left Beacon Hills. Both times he had been the one responsible for the death...indirectly or otherwise, but even without the overwhelming guilt Derek could not bring himself to think of the happy memories he had of those he had lost without the scarring memories of the last moments he had shared with Paige and his family being brought forth.

 

Derek wouldn’t wish that fate on any of his pack when it came to Stiles. Not even Jackson...or Peter, had he been there. The only reason he didn’t make Scott leave was because he knew that there was no way Scott would leave his best friend behind. Scott and Stiles were brothers in every way except for blood. There was not one without the other, and trying to force Scott into leaving a grievously...possibly fatally injured Stiles, would have only made the strained relationship between Scott and Derek even more damaged...or broken it completely.

 

Besides, Derek doubted he could even have been able to force Scott away, even with his alpha powers. Scott had never formally become a member of Derek’s pack. He didn’t recognise Derek as his alpha, and he never had. They were allies, yes, although they did not agree on every issue that came up...Scott’s continued relationship with Allison for one, and Derek could possibly say that they could be considered to be friends...of a sort...but Scott wasn’t one of Derek’s betas, and therefore Scott couldn’t be controlled by Derek.

 

Pushing his thoughts about his own actions aside, Derek thought about Scott, wondering how the younger werewolf was coping without any of the pack there with him to keep him calm. Allison would have been the best option, considering she was Scott’s anchor. Instead Scott was alone with Stiles’ dad, who knew nothing about the supernatural or the importance of Scott remaining calm...and would probably be more worried about his son’s fight for life than anything else...not that Derek could fault him for that.

 

Derek had always marvelled at the close bond between Stiles and his dad. He knew so much of it was because of the death of Stiles’ mother, and neither of them believing that they would cope with another death in the family. Stiles was almost obsessive when it came to protecting his father from a premature grave, and the concern that the Sherriff had been displaying about Stiles lately told Derek that Stiles’ dad was just as worried about Stiles ending up hurt or worse. It had been the reason why Stiles got sent away to Starling City in the first place...to get him away from whatever it was in Beacon Hills that had altered Stiles’ behaviour.

 

The plan had backfired horribly, but nobody...not even Derek, had expected another pack, and least of all Constiablo’s pack, to kidnap Stiles and torture him, using him as bait to get to Derek. The trouble that Stiles had been supposed to be getting away from had followed him across the miles between Beacon Hills and Starling City, and now the teenager was fighting for life.

 

In hindsight, Derek mused that he shouldn’t have been surprised. Stiles always had been a trouble magnet. Even when Stiles had been young, before the fire, he’d always had a few bumps and bruises from minor accidents. He remembered Felicity telling Laura how Stiles had broken his arm when he’d tried to swing off the roof like Batman did

 

Still, Stiles had been okay...battered, bruised and in shock, but otherwise okay, up until Derek had turned his back on Constiablo’s fallen pack...up until Stiles got shot protecting Derek’s life. Derek could feel the familiar guilt washing over him, and he closed his eyes, remembering the look of surprise on Stiles’ face just before he dropped to his knees, the red stain on his grubby t-shirt growing rapidly as the scent of fresh blood hit Derek, almost like a punch to the face...or to the guts...every time he remembered that moment when he had realised what Stiles had done...for him. This went way beyond holding him up in the swimming pool for two hours. Stiles was running a very real risk of dying, if he hadn’t already, and it was entirely Derek’s fault.

 

TW/A

 

One of the biggest things in favour of him working with Oliver Queen, in John Diggle’s opinion, was the fact that he felt useful again. For the first time since he left the US armed forces he felt like he was actually helping people, and helping to prevent what happened to his brother from happening to other people who had families and friends that loved them. It was like he had a purpose again...something meaningful that made him look forward to getting out of bed every morning.

 

Sometimes, though, there was nothing Diggle could do to help...and he hated those moments. To him, it felt like failure...like he wasn’t good enough...strong enough...fast enough to be much help in that situation.

 

This time, however, was different. Diggle knew that he could do nothing to help, and he knew that he was an outsider. He had only ever met Stiles twice, and yet here he was with the three people that knew Stiles the best. John Stilinski looked broken, as if the prospect of Stiles dying would be enough to send him over the metaphorical edge. Felicity sat beside her step father, her face pale and her hands trembling a little. Oliver sat on her other side, a hand resting on her shoulder reassuringly, unwavering in it’s support. On John Stilinksi’s other side was Stiles’ best friend, Scott.

 

Diggle didn’t know what to make of the boy. In the photo Carley had taken the boy looked like an overgrown puppy...harmless and nothing to be concerned about. In person though, it was a different story. Scott still looked harmless enough, but there was something about him that made Diggle alert...something about him that hinted he was dangerous. Diggle glanced at Oliver and knew that Oliver had noticed as well; if the subtle assessing glances Oliver was sending the teenager were anything to go by. Perhaps Oliver knew why the kid seemed so dangerous...but Diggle couldn’t pick it. He would bet that Roy could take the kid down in less than thirty seconds, which didn’t seem to explain why Oliver kept looking at Scott like...like that.

 

As Diggle watched Oliver glanced at Scott again, his eyes narrowing as he looked over the kid, before going back to focusing on Felicity. Rolling his eyes, Diggle watched as Oliver silently supported Felicity. He had never seen a couple so blind to their attraction towards one another than Oliver and Felicity. It was almost sad, watching them dance around each other, exchanging wistful glances, but never getting too close.

 

Felicity had...to use the popular term, been ‘friend-zoned’, by Oliver, who was trying to protect her from all the dangers their being romantically involved would entail. There were the risks of being romantically linked with the vigilante of Starling City, of course, but then there were the other dangers as well. Being romantically linked to Oliver Queen was a perilous position in itself, especially now that the Queen family’s popularity in Starling City was at an all time low thanks to Moira’s involvement in the earthquake. Then there was the more public risks that Felicity would be exposed to...the public ridicule and media exposure she would have to endure in her role as being the girlfriend of the most eligible bachelor in the city...especially given that Felicity wasn’t well known in her own right. She wasn’t a socialite, or a model or a actress or a heiress, like the majority of Oliver’s former girlfriends (the Lance girls being the obvious exceptions), but instead a IT specialist from a small town in north California.

 

And then, there was the motional danger. Oliver had come back from the island not only physically scarred, but mentally as well. Diggle knew his and Oliver’s brains were wired similarly. They both probably had traumatic memories, at least minor PTSD and the mindset of soldiers who had not yet completely readjusted to civilian life. Being romantically entangled with Oliver would mean that Felicity would learn how to deal with Oliver when he as at his worst, when the memories of what had happened to him became too much, and at his best, when he managed to overcome what had happened to him and do some great thing for the people of Starling city.

 

The thing with that, however, was that Felicity was already doing it. Ever since Felicity had started working with Oliver and Diggle it had been apparent to Diggle how much Felicity had learned about reading both h of them like a book. She knew precisely when she needed to be quiet, or when she needed to talk, when she needed to provide a distraction, and when either of them needed a shoulder to lean on...that wasn’t each other.

 

Yes, there was a lot of danger involved, but Diggle would have thought that, after spending five years on an island facing the prospect of death every single day, Oliver would have stopped denying his own feelings and made a move already, because who knew how long any of them would be alive for.

 

Hell...Felicity’s sixteen year old brother was in surgery at that very moment, fighting for his life after being shot in the abdomen.

 

As terrible as Stiles’ injury was, Diggle privately wondered if this would serve as the kick in the butt Oliver and Felicity needed. If Stiles survived, maybe seeing how fragile human lives were would remind them to seize the moment and to finally realise that they were perfect for one another...and then finally do something about it.

 

Of course, on the other hand, if Stiles died, Diggle was certain that their little team would never recover and eventually, would cease to exist entirely. Oliver would forever blame himself for the death of Felicity’s baby brother, even if Stiles’ death had nothing to do with Felicity’s association with the Vigilante...something Diggle had begun to doubt ever since the arrival of Stiles’ friends. Felicity, if she lost her brother, would be broken, and Diggle doubted that she’d ever fully get over her loss. He knew what it was like to loose a brother...and Andy had been a grown up when he had died. Stiles in contrast was still a kid. He had a whole lifetime ahead of him, and Felicity would always mourn the opportunities Stiles had missed out on. If Stiles died Diggle wouldn’t be surprised of Felicity left Starling City entirely, the painful memories of the city where her beloved baby brother was murdered being too much...and if Felicity left, then Diggle knew that the team’s days would be numbered.  

 

And with that thought, Diggle closed his eyes and prayed to a God that he wasn’t even sure he still believed in after everything he had been though in the past that Stiles would pull through and everything would turn out alright in the end.

 

It was the only thing he could do to help his team, and Diggle only wished he could do more.

 

TW/A

           

Lydia watched as the rest of the pack moved around restlessly. Jackson was pacing, his phone still in his hand from when he had called Danny and given him an update on what had happened. Erica was pacing too, her makeup smudged from the fight and her hand tapping nervously against a leg in a nervous gesture that reminded Lydia painfully of Stiles. Boyd was perhaps the calmest person in the room, but it was obvious to Lydia from the pained look on Boyd’s face that he was still upset. Isaac was sleeping, huddled against Derek, the older man carding his finger’s soothingly through Isaac’s hair. From where Lydia sat it was apparent that Isaac’s sleep wasn’t particularly pleasant, if Isaac’s slightly pinched expression and soft whimpers were anything to go by.

 

Allison’s concussion seemed to be steadily improving as time passed, and the gash on her forehead had stopped bleeding hours ago...about the same time Allison had called her dad and told him that Constiablo and his pack were all either dead or had been arrested for kidnapping and then torturing Stiles. Currently she was sitting beside Lydia, her gaze distant as she cleaned and sharpened one of her many knives. In the hours that had passed Allison had gone through the process of sharpening and cleaning each knife about three times. Allison’s phone sat on the concrete beside her; within easy grabbing distance should Scott call or text with news about Stiles’ condition, or Chris contact Allison looking for news.

 

Not that there was anything new to tell him, or anyone else that was in Beacon Hills. With the exception of the first phone call, during which Scott had told them Stiles had been taken straight into surgery and that Scott was going to stay with Stiles’ dad, they’d had no news...even though seven hours had passed since then. It was now evening, and the pack were too worried to even think about sleep...Isaac only being the exception because Derek had pretty much held him down and alpha ordered him to rest. Boyd and Erica had gone and gotten some food, although none of them were particularly hungry. Lydia had only picked at her salad, the memory of Stiles, on the ground and drenched in blood, burned into her mind. Derek had ignored his food entirely, gazing broodingly into the distance, his hand flexing, as if he was fighting the urge to let his claws out.

 

Between Jackson, Allison and Derek, who had called Peter and told him to keep his guard up, despite Constiablo’s pack being defeated, Lydia was sure that everyone who needed to know was as up to date on Stiles’ condition as possible...with the potential exception of Scott’s mom. Lydia didn’t have Mrs. McCall’s number, and she wasn’t sure if Scott had called his mother from the hospital or not. She figured Scott would have. Ever since Stiles’ mom died, and especially after Felicity left for college, Lydia knew that Melissa McCall stepped up and took the little boy in, patching up his bumps and bruises even more frequently than she did her own son’s. Scott was close with his mother, she was probably told about Stiles’ condition even before Allison...and if she hadn’t been it would have been because Scott didn’t want to worry her until there was more information he could give her about Stiles’ condition.

 

As much as Lydia wanted to hear some news, she guessed that the fact that they hadn’t heard anything yet was a good sign. It meant that Stiles was still hanging on to life, however unlikely that had looked for a while there earlier in the day. Lydia knew more about medicine than most adults, and she knew how much blood could be lost before an individual was past the point of no return, for the lack of a better praise. Stiles had, by the looks of it the last time she’d seen him, been dangerously close to that point, judging from the state of his clothes alone...not even considering whatever injuries he had already sustained at the hands of Constiablo and his pack.

 

What was worrying Lydia now was the amount of time that had lapsed since Scott had called with news. The fact that Scott hadn’t called to update them on Stiles’ condition yet made it look like Stiles was still in surgery. Seven hours of surgery, when Stiles was already very weak from being tortured and blood loss, wasn’t a good sign. Lydia could only guess at the internal damage the bullet had caused to Stiles’ fragile, human body.

 

Lydia frowned and slumped a little against the concrete wall...hating that there was nothing for her to do to help. She was Lydia Martin after all, and Lydia Martin did not do helpless...except now she was. She couldn’t help Stiles...his life was in the hands of people that didn’t know how precious the teenager they were operating on was...how important he was. How he had a family that loved him and friends that would die for him.

 

Friends that needed him to come back home...more than anything else in the world.


	18. Chapter 18

When Isaac woke up, the first thing he was aware of was the comforting warmth of his alpha beneath him, and he realised with a pang that he’d fallen asleep with his head resting in Derek’s lap. Isaac stiffened, tensing up in preparation for the blow he was certain was coming...retribution for Isaac’s actions...but it never came. Instead Isaac felt Derek gently carding his fingers through Isaac’s hair, the other arm draped over Isaac’s shoulder, the fingers tracing patterns in the dust on the concrete in front of them.

 

“Derek?” Isaac croaked out.

 

“No news yet,” Derek replied, and Isaac cringed when it all came flooding back...Stiles’ kidnapping, the flight to Starling City, and their rescue...the rival pack and the fight...and then the gunshot and Stiles falling, bleeding out on the floor of the warehouse...Derek, Scott and the Vigilante trying to stop the bleeding from Stiles’ stomach...learning that Stiles had been taken into surgery.

 

The long wait after that.

 

“How long has it been?” Isaac asked, sitting upright and looking around the warehouse. Erica and Boyd were both asleep on the other side of Derek, cuddled together for comfort. Opposite from where they lay, Jackson was sitting and lightly dozing, with Lydia’s head in his lap, mirroring the positions of Derek and Isaac. Lydia was awake, although her gaze was distant, and her eyes shone in the moonlight with unshed tears. Allison sat with Lydia’s feet touching her leg, with the other leg drawn up to her chest, her chin resting on her knee.

 

“Nine and a half hours since Scott called, you’ve been asleep for almost three.”

 

Isaac glanced at his watch and sighed. It was coming up to ten o’clock at night, and the moon was rising in the sky above Starling City. It wasn’t a full moon, but Isaac could still feel its call. It was understandable, really, considering that Isaac had spent so much of the day wolfed out.

 

Although he had fought with Derek about it at the time, Isaac was glad he had slept. The fight had taken it out of him...especially when his body had been trying to heal the injuries he had sustained, and he’d needed the sleep, even if it hadn’t been for very long. Now, it looked like it was Boyd, Erica and Jackson’s turn to have a rest, recouping the energy they had lost during the fight.

 

Isaac tested out his movements, pleased to find that his injuries from the fight were almost completely healed, now nothing but thin red lines that would soon fade completely. Derek’s injuries, although they hadn’t been very bad at the time of the fight, looked like they had completely healed, much to Isaac’s delight. He hated it when Derek was injured. It made him feel especially vulnerable.

 

The sound of a phone going off startled Isaac from his thoughts, and he nervously jumped closer to Derek as Erica, Boyd and Jackson startled violently out of their sleep, with Jackson jumping up, teeth and claws bared, and crouching protectively over Lydia. Allison had grabbed her phone and quickly answered it.

 

“Scott?”

 

“Hey Allison,” Scot’s voice came from the phone. For Lydia’s benefit, since everyone else could hear Scott’s voice anyway, Allison switched to loudspeaker. Isaac however, was focused on how tired Scott sounded. He’d never heard Scott sound so washed out and defeated.

 

“You’re on loudspeaker, the others are all with me,” Allison told Scott, “How...how did everything go?’ she asked, obviously catching the weariness in Scott’s voice.

 

Isaac could hear the pain in Scott’s voice as he let out a shaky breath and began to speak.

 

“He’s still alive. He...he flat lined three times during the surgery...it’s why it took so long...they had to keep getting him stabilized again . He only got out about an hour ago; he’s being settled into intensive care now though. They said if he makes it through the next 24 hours things will be looking a bit more promising.”

 

Isaac was painfully aware of the fact that Scott couldn’t bring himself to say Stiles’ name...as if he was distancing Stiles from the person who was so badly injured.

 

Behind him, Derek was growling softly, and Erica let out a soft sob, latching onto Derek. Isaac knew that, of Derek’s original betas, Erica was the closest to Stiles, so it was understandable that the news that Stiles had literally died on the operating table three times was bound to hit her hard. Isaac and Stiles weren’t super close, and Isaac still had been affected by the news.

 

“How’s the Sherriff going?” Jackson asked in a low voice, Lydia huddled against his chest as she sobbed into his t-shirt. Isaac and Boyd exchanged perplexed looks, surprised that Jackson, of all people, had asked about Stiles’ dad.

 

“He’s...he’s in shock. I’m glad that Felicity is here, because otherwise I wouldn’t know what to do. I haven’t seen him this...this upset, since Stiles’ mom’s funeral.” Scott replied, his voice thick with emotion.

 

“Are you talking to Derek Hale?” Isaac heard the voice of the Sherriff say through the phone, obviously standing not far from Scott.

 

“Um...no,” Scott stammered, Isaac able to hear Scott’s heart rate jump through the phone. Derek rolled his eyes.

 

Obviously Scott hadn’t been very convincing in person either, because the Sherriff spoke again.

 

“Hand it over or put it on loudspeaker...I want a word with him and the rest of your little rescue group.”

 

“Yes sir,” Scott sighed, “okay guys, St...Stiles’ dad is with me now.”

 

“No shit,” Jackson replied, “we could hear...ow” Jackson broke off to glare at Boyd, who had hit him in the arm to shut him up and prevent him from saying something he shouldn’t Derek, however, ignored the two Beta’s, stepping purposefully closer to Allison.

 

“Hello Sherriff.”

 

“Derek,” the Sherriff greeted down the phone, “Where the hell are you guys, the longer you’re missing the worse this all looks...you know that.”

 

“We...we thought it would be best to leave you and Scott at first...you’re the ones who are the closest to Stiles,” Derek explained. Isaac inched closer to his Alpha, and put a reassuring hand of Derek’s shoulder. Derek relaxed minutely beneath his hand, although Isaac could still feel how tense Derek was, ready to lead the teenagers away if he needed to in order to protect them from getting arrested.

 

“As touching as that was, Derek, I’d be much happier if all of you were in the same spot,” John Stilinski told Derek in a deceptively calm voice. Isaac recognized the voice as the one the Sherriff had used back when Isaac was being questioned about his dad’s murder. It was the tone of someone who was not in the mood for any argument. It was, for lack of a better description, the Sherriff’s Alpha voice.

 

“Alright, if that’s what you want,” Derek agreed, knowing there was no point arguing with the Sherriff. Silently, Isaac and the others began getting ready to head out, picking up their bags and the few bits and pieces, like the first aid stuff, that they had gotten out while they waited for news. Isaac picked up Scott’s bag, which Boyd had collected from the rooftop they’d hidden their things on earlier, while Erica collected the rubbish from their dinner and stuffed it into her backpack, to be disposed of later.

 

Really, they had nothing to fear. The members of the Starling City pack that had died had all been clawed, so that, to those investigating, it would look like some rabid animal got in there and killed a lot of people, despite how illogical that explanation seemed.

 

“Is the hospital far?” Isaac asked as Allison hung up, once the Sherriff had finished talking to Derek. Lydia nodded, her phone out, obviously looking at a map.

 

“It’ll take awhile to walk, unless we want to catch a taxi,” she told them. Derek shook his head,

 

“We’ll get a taxi, but we’ll have to walk out of this area, the cabs aren’t going to come into the Glades...not with it being like this,”

 

Jackson nodded in agreement, “Especially since it’s so late,” he added.

 

“There’s a train station about half an hour walk from here,” Lydia offered, still looking at her phone, “we’ll be able to catch a taxi from there.”

 

Derek nodded, picking up his duffle bag and slinging it over his shoulder, before glancing around to make sure there wasn’t any obvious rubbish or evidence lying around the warehouse they had been hiding out in.

 

Apparently, it met Derek’s standards, because he strode up beside Isaac, looking over the assembled teenagers.

 

“All right, let’s go,” he told them, leading them out into the night.

 

TW/A  

 

Erica hated hospitals...she always had. They reminded her of the bad times, when she was controlled by her epilepsy and it ruled her life. Now that she was a werewolf she hated them even more. The scent of blood, sickness and death was everywhere, thick with each breath she drew in, overpowering even the scent of chemicals in the air. On either side of her, she could tell that Isaac and Boyd were just as affected, if the slight wrinkling of their noses was anything to go by. Jackson, however, had found a way around it, by burying his face in Lydia’s hair and using the scent of Lydia’s shampoo to mask the offensive odours.

 

Derek, however, seemed unaffected, his back straight as he led the pack through the hospital to the area they had been directed tom his posture becoming even stiffer when Derek spotted Sherriff Stilinski, standing in a corridor, waiting for them.

 

“Sir,” Derek greeted politely. Stiles’ dad nodded in reply.

 

“Hale.” He said shortly, his voice choked up with emotion. Erica cringed sympathetically, unable to fathom what Stiles’ dad was going through. Erica’s family was whole, her own health the only thing that had marred her childhood. Both her parents were still alive, happily married to one another. Erica didn’t have any siblings, but her extended family were all healthy and happy. Erica couldn’t imagine what it had been like for Stiles, Felicity and their dad to lose Stiles’ mother, and then, for Stiles’ dad and sister to face the prospect of losing Stiles too.

 

“Scott’s in there,” the Sheriff added, pointing to a room, “We’ve got a private area to wait...it’s not too far from his room.”

 

“How’s Stiles?” Allison tentatively asked from where she stood with Lydia.

 

“He’s...he’s fighting,” The Sherriff said in response, his voice cracking a little with emotion.   Lydia stepped forward and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

 

“He’s a fighter...he’s not going to give up. Stiles never gives up.” She told him calmly, and Erica nodded in agreement. The Sherriff gave a low, weak chuckle.

 

“Yeah...I know.”

 

Lydia took his arm in hers and walked into the room the Sherriff had indicated, leading the Sherriff along beside her, the rest of the pack wordlessly following. Inside was Scott, a police officer, and another man wearing a suit.

 

“Allison,” Scott said brokenly, his own voice cracking a little with emotion. Normally Erica would have laughed and teased him about it...but not now. She couldn’t do that to him now. Even Jackson kept his mouth shut, crossing over to a corner and sliding down the wall

 

Scott got up and crossed the room and embraced Allison, dropping his head to her shoulders. Erica didn’t need her werewolf senses to know that he was crying, although the salty scent of tears confirmed her suspicions. Allison rubbed Scott’s back, tangling her fingers in his hair and whispering soft reassurances in his ear. Erica glanced away, feeling bad for encroaching on such a private moment, and contemplated going and joining Jackson.

 

“Is this everyone?’ the policeman asked, and the Sherriff nodded. Erica noticed out of the corner of her eye both Allison and Derek tensing, as if getting ready to run, should handcuffs start appearing.

 

“You kids look like you’ve had a rough day,” The policeman offered in a gentle voice, his eyes lingering on Allison and Scott, “can you tell me what happened at the warehouse.”

 

“We...we were trying to save Stiles,” Lydia offered tentatively.

 

“How did you know who had taken him...and where he was being taken? We’ve been identifying the other people at the warehouse...they’ve all got criminal records going back years. Murder, robbery, drug dealing, gang related offences...they’re not the sort of people kids your age should be dealing with”

 

“Their leader...Don Constiablo...He’s got a thing against my family. He saw Stiles in the city and knew that we were friends, so he took him and contacted me. He said that if I didn’t come to Starling City he was going to kill Stiles. I knew he would...regardless of Stiles age.” Derek replied formally.

 

“How did he know you were friends?” The Sherriff asked, “You two aren’t that close...are you?”

 

“No,” Derek admitted.

 

“There are pictures of them together on Facebook though, from Lydia’s birthday...that would probably be how he thought you two were friends.” Erica chimed in. Derek took her hand squeezing lightly. Erica knew it was his way of praising her quick thinking with the story.

 

“Why didn’t you go to the police?” the Sheriff yelled, causing Scott and Isaac to startle and flinch violently, “you could have all been killed.”

 

Derek nodded, hanging his head in chastisement. The Sherriff looked like he would be happy to punch Derek in the face, and Erica bit down on her lip, fighting to keep her wolf from coming out in defence of its alpha.

 

“I’m sorry,” Derek apologised. The Sherriff sighed, dropping into a chair wearily. To Erica it looked like he had aged ten years in the last two days.

 

“Felicity is with Stiles now. You should all go and see him once she’s finished. They’re only letting two visitors in at a time.” He told them in a rough voice.

 

“I’ll go tell the nurses that they all have your approval to visit Stiles,” the police officer offered, ducking out of the room.  

 

Derek nodded in thanks to the Sherriff, and the pack moved out of the doorway, sitting in the uncomfortable hospital seats, or on the floor. Erica sat down beside Derek, leaning close to him, both seeking, and offering comfort as Derek withdrew into his own thoughts. Erica glanced at Boyd, who frowned, worry written across his face. They all knew how much Derek liked to punish himself when things went wrong. Isaac sat on the floor, leaning against Derek’s legs, his head resting on the chair beside Derek’s knee. Allison had guided Scott into a chair and was now sitting beside him, their arms wrapped around one another, a little distant from Erica, Derek, Boyd and Isaac. Lydia and Jackson sat in between the two groups, and Erica cringed at how, automatically, the two packs of Beacon Hills, Scott’s and Derek’s, had drifted apart...as was normal. They worked together in a time of chaos, when they needed to in order to avoid being killed...but the moment the danger was over, they drifted apart again...distrustful and distant.

 

It was something Stiles had noticed and pointed out once, just after Matt died, and Erica could, at the time, see how it unnerved the human. He could see the reasoning behind it. Scott’s love for Allison and his inability to see her as dangerous...even when her own father could, was the main reason for the division between the two packs...Derek’s questionable skills as an alpha was the second, the fact that Scott didn’t recognise Derek as his alpha was another reason. There were many more...and probably a lot that Erica didn’t know about, but at that precise moment she remembered something Stiles had said once, just before everything went to hell with Gerard, and Allison went insane.

 

“We’re stronger united,” Stiles had said as he and Derek’s betas had watched Scott and Derek argue about something...Erica couldn’t clearly remember what, “as much as I hate to say it, one pack is better than two. We’re like the Starks in Game of Thrones. We’re that spread out all over the place that we’re literally useless. The lone wolf dies...the pack survives. I don’t want any of you guys dead...not even Derek.”

 

Erica blinked, wiping a solitary tear from her cheek, smudging her already wrecked makeup. Stiles had to survive.

 

The pack needed it’s Batman to hold it together.

 

TW/A

 

Boyd lifted his head when the door opened and a woman, maybe a year or so older than Derek walked in, her blond hair in a messy ponytail. She was accompanied by a tall man whose scent was familiar. Sitting up, Boyd glanced at Derek noticing how the Alpha straightened, obviously recognising the scent of the Vigilante on the man. Scott gave a slight nod, shotting a sideways glance at Derek, before going back to watching the newcomers.

 

The Vigilante and the girl he was with glanced over the pack, and the woman’s eyes rested on Derek, who rose to his feet, stepping around Isaac. Boyd realised that she had to be Stiles’ sister Felicity. He’d never met her before, but he’d heard Stiles talk about her.

 

“Felicity, I...” Derek began, but never got the chance to finish. Felicity strode across the room and punched Derek in the jaw, hissing in pain and shaking her hand in pain. Derek, to his credit, didn’t shift his features in response to the threat.

 

“Felicity,” John scolded disapprovingly as the Vigilante moved after Felicity, squeezing her shoulder soothingly

  
“Derek, what the hell have you gotten into...what has Stiles gotten himself into? Why was he taken?”

 

Derek shook his head, and Felicity let out a sob, lurching forward towards Derek again...only this time she threw her arms around him in a hug that Derek returned after only a moment’s hesitation.

 

“I’m sorry,” Felicity apologised, “It’s just...I can’t handle seeing him like that...he’s still. Stiles is never still. He’s always moving...and now he’s not, and it’s so wrong.”

 

“I know,” Derek told her in reply, “I’d forgotten how much he moves around, even when he was supposed to be still.”

 

Boyd glanced over at Erica, who was watching the pair with interest, before she looked over at him, their eyes meeting, and Erica reading the unspoken question in Boyd’s eyes.

 

“I didn’t realise Derek and Stiles’ sister knew each other that well.” Isaac whispered to Erica and Boyd from where he sat, voicing Boyd’s unspoken question. Scott was too busy being comforted by Allison, and Lydia and Jackson both shrugged, although Lydia looked annoyed by the fact that she didn’t know the answer. If the situation wasn’t so dire Boyd would have smiled at Lydia’s obvious annoyance.

 

“Why...why don’t you guys go see Stiles...I’m sure it will do you all some good,” the Sherriff suggested in a soft, pained voice. Derek pulled away from Felicity.

 

“We don’t want to intrude,” Derek replied. Felicty shook her head.

 

“We’ve all been to visit him...I know he’d want his friends to have the chance to visit him. They’re only letting us stay in there for five minutes at a time, and only two people at once. It’s...it’s a bit confronting though...just so you know.” Felicity walked back to the Vigilante, leaning against him wearily as he put his arm reassuringly around her shoulder. The other man that Boyd didn’t recognise...the one in the suit...joined them, rubbing Felicity’s back.

 

“We’ll go first,” Lydia offered getting up, and dragging Jackson along with her. Derek nodded.

 

“Boyd, are you and Erica fine to go in together?” Derek asked. Boyd and Erica both nodded, and Derek sat back down.

 

“Allison can go with Scott, and I’ll go with Isaac,” Derek finished off as Boyd watched Isaac inch a little closer to Derek again, seeking the reassurance of his Alpha. In response, Boyd watched as Derek began running his finger’s through Isaac’s blonde curls. They sat in silence, the ticking of the clock in the wall and the distinct thumping of everyone’s heart beats, as well as the noise from out in the corridor, the only things Boyd could hear.

 

Lydia and Jackson soon returned and their places at Stiles’ bedside were replaced by Allison and Scott. Boyd studied Lydia and Jackson upon their return. He could smell Lydia’s tears, although any visual indication of their existence was erased by the mask that Lydia had put up, the one Boyd knew from observing, was the one she wore when she was at her most vulnerable.

 

Jackson was pale and withdrawn, and Boyd was pretty sure that seeing Stiles in hospital had made an impact on the newest werewolf of the pack. As much as Jackson had hated Stiles before, he had still come to Stiles’ rescue, just as much as the rest of the pack had. Boyd knew that most of the reason Jackson came was because of Lydia and his unwillingness to be separated from her by such a large distance, especially when the situation was going to be so dangerous, but another key factor that made Jackson choose to come was his desire to help out Stiles, who, despite everything, had done a lot during the last few months to protect Jackson from those that wanted him hurt...or had wanted him to hurt others.

 

Preoccupied with watching Jackson, Boyd didn’t notice Scott and Allison returning until the door opened and they walked in, Allison pretty much holding Scott upright. In stark contrast to Lydia, Scott hadn’t made any attempt to hide his tears, Allison’s shirt was damp with them, and Scott still had tears pouring down his cheeks. Allison too looked affected by what she had seen, her own eyes and cheeks damp with tears. It was a good thing that none of the girls had bothered to reapply make up after the fight, because it would all be smudged up again by now,

 

“Do you guys want to go now, or should we?” Derek asked from between Boyd and Erica. Erica pushed him out of his seat.

 

“Go,” she told Derek and Isaac, who nodded and left the room. Boyd closed his eyes, knowing the moment that Derek and Isaac walked into Stiles’ hospital room, the amount of emotional pain and anguish Isaac was going through being felt through the pack bonds he and Derek shared with Erica and Boyd, weak and frayed as they were. Derek was far better at hiding his emotions and feelings from the betas, and the bonds between Erica, Boyd and Derek were weaker than the ones that Erica and Boyd shared with Isaac. Boyd opened his eyes, noticing how even Jackson was shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

 

“Is it always like this?” he asked eventually, being vague since there were others in the room, although the police officer had gone to make some phone calls to his family, and Stiles’ dad had gone to get some coffee, getting for the long night ahead.

 

“What...with the...”Boyd gestured at his head, and Jackson nodded.

 

“Isaac hasn’t quite got the hang of keeping things to himself...he’s getting better though.” Boyd explained shortly, and Jackson nodded. Six months ago Boyd wouldn’t have put it past Jackson to tease Isaac about this weakness...but after what they had both been through Boyd knew that he wouldn’t.

 

And if Jackson did Derek would not hesitate to personally make sure Jackson knew how long it would take for his werewolf body to heal every single bone he had.

 

Neither Derek nor Isaac said anything when they returned from visiting Stiles. Boyd and Erica only hung around long enough to see Isaac huddle up beside Derek, his face pressed into Derek’s leather jacket as he tried to regulate his breathing and calm himself down, before they were out in the walkway of the hospital, the door closed behind them. Heading down the corridor towards the room that Stiles’ scent was the strongest in...Although it was a weak imitation of Stiles’ scent...heavily masked by the thick smell of pain, sickness and chemicals.

 

They paused outside the door, and Erica tapped twice on it with her finger. Boyd raised his eyebrow at her, knowing that Stiles wasn’t in any condition to answer the door. It wasn’t like any of them used Stiles’ door when he was in Beacon Hills anyway...they always just used his bedroom window.

 

“It’s good manners,” Erica defended, before she opened the door and let them in. There was a nurse inside, checking the reading on the machines at the side of the bed, and making notes in his file, but she gave them a smile.

 

“You must be Stiles’ friends,” she said with a pleasant smile, “I’m just checking up on him...he’s doing okay...all things considered...your friend is very lucky.”

 

Boyd nodded, listening to the nurse’s heart beat and not detecting any lie. She seemed to be legitimate. The nurse made one final note, before she left the room, closing the door behind her. Boyd glanced at Erica, who had completely ignored the nurse, instead focused on the figure lying motionless in the bed. Boyd froze when he took in the sight of Stiles.

 

The teenager was completely motionless, save for the rise and fall of his chest, and Boyd knew, going from the tube coming out of Stiles’ mouth, and the machine it was connected to, that Stiles wasn’t even breathing for himself at the moment. The machine was doing it all for him.

 

Stiles’ skin was pale, even for him...about the same colour as the white hospital sheets he was lying on. He had two IV lines running into him, with one in the back of each hand, one of them was a blood transfusion, trying to replace the amount of blood that Stiles had lost, while the other was clear...obviously medicine of some sort, Boyd didn’t know what.

 

Boyd and Erica approached the bed, sitting in the two chairs sitting beside one another next to the bed. Boyd put one arm around Erica’s shoulder, and reached out the other, resting it high up on Stiles’ arm. Erica reached out her hand and carefully entwined her fingers with Stiles’.

 

“Hey Batman,” she greeted, ‘do you want to wake up at some point soon?”

 

Stiles remained motionless.


	19. Chapter 19

Felicity slid the file into her bag, before she rose to her feet, putting her bag up on her shoulder. She glanced back over her shoulder, checking that she had gotten all of her things, before she flicked off the lights of the underground lair of the Vigilante and headed out through the back door, making sure the lock engaged when she left.

 

It had been six long days since Stiles had arrived at hospital, having lost 35 per cent of his total blood volume after he was shot. It was a minor miracle that none of his major organs had been hit when the bullet had entered his body and lodged itself in one of his lower ribs.

 

Things had been bad that day, with Stiles coming perilously close to dying and then being brought back from the brink multiple times during the surgery, but at about three o’clock the following morning Stiles’ condition had begun to get even worse. A blood test had found traces of Aconite...one of the most dangerous poisons known to mankind, in his system, which was causing Stiles’ already strained heart to further weaken and beat irregularly. It was only because of the drugs Stiles on following the surgery and the fact that the form of Aconite Stiles had been somehow dosed with was slow acting that Stiles had lasted so long. Stiles had been given the antidote and, mercifully, his condition had improved.

 

Dawn had provided information about how the Aconite had made it’s way into Stiles’ system. The bullet that the doctors had retrieved from within Stiles had been examined by the Starling City Police department’s forensics lab, and it was packed with aconite. Felicity knew, once she’d seen the report (which she wasn’t supposed to have seen) that Stiles was lucky the bullet hadn’t been badly damaged when it had hit him. Only a little of the Aconite had escaped the bullet and gotten into his system. If he’d gotten the full dose contained within the bullet, Stiles wouldn’t have survived the surgery.

 

As time had passed Stiles’ body had progressively gotten stronger, despite the fact that he hadn’t woken up yet. For the first forty eight hours he’d been in a medically induced coma to give his body as much time as possible to devote itself to healing, but since then the doctors at the hospital had been slowly weaning him off the medication keeping him asleep. He still had the breathing tube in, but it was now on a cycle of automatically turning itself off for half an hour at a time every three hours, to give Stiles the chance to breathe by himself, although there was a failsafe for the machine to start breathing for Stiles again if his respirations dropped beneath a certain level. Felicity had been very anxious about the first few times Stiles had been breathing on his own, but Stiles had shown that, despite how battered his body was, he was coping with breathing on his own for short stretches. The previous night the doctors had been discussing with John the very real possibility of increasing the amount of time Stiles spent breathing on his own, part of a steady progression towards getting off the ventilator entirely.

 

Still, they didn’t know how long it would be before Stiles woke up. A roster had been set up, between Felicity, her dad, Oliver, Diggle, and Stiles’ friends, with the day split into shifts so that everyone had the chance to get some sleep, So Felicity’s time had been spent between sitting with Stiles, checking in on the teenagers (Oliver had arranged for a fully furnished house not far from the hospital for all of Stiles’ friends and Felicity’s stepdad to stay in while Stiles was still in hospital) and doing her work with the Vigilante in the basement of Verdant.   Oliver had approved for Felicity to have two weeks paid personal leave from work, with the option of taking more time at the end of the two weeks if it was needed, so at least she hadn’t needed to worry about her work at Queen Consolidated.

 

The amount of free time Felicity had on her hands had been spent getting to know Stiles’ friends. She already knew Scott, naturally, but she’d been curious about the others...Jackson especially.

 

As she thought of Jackson, Felicity looked down at the file in her hand. It contained everything she had uncovered about Jackson’s biological parents, including Roy’s details. She and Oliver had made two copies. Oliver was going to go and deliver one to Roy...Felicity would give the other to Jackson.

 

There had been a lot of discussion between Oliver, Felicity and Diggle about what they should do. Initially Oliver had been hesitant to get involved, but Felicity and Diggle had both been convinced that the brothers needed to have the chance to meet...before something bad happened to one of them (and considering what they’d both been through lately...with the Roy’s kidnapping and the earthquake and then Stiles’ rescue...it was possible that something bad could have happened already) and they were robbed of the chance of ever meeting and getting to know one another.

 

Oliver had still had his doubts...up until Felicity put him in Roy and Jackson’s situation. What if Oliver had never met Thea, through some tragic twist of fate, and he found out after Thea died? How would Oliver feel, having lived his life alone, finding out that he had a younger sister that had died before he even knew she existed?

 

Naturally, after that, Oliver came around to Diggle and Felicity’s way of thinking. They’d contemplated the idea of having the vigilante deliver the file to Roy and discuss what it meant for Roy and Jackson with the older of the boys...but ultimately it had been decided that Oliver would be the one who would present the information...having unearthed it during a routine background check he’d had Felicity run on Roy when he and Thea got together, when Oliver noticed the physical similarities between Roy and Stiles’ friend Jackson.

 

The fact that Stiles was in hospital was no secret as far as Oliver’s family was concerned. Thea and Walter had both called Felicity and enquired about Stiles’ health, Walter offering any assistance that he could provide that would be of use, both of them obviously remembering how Felicity had visited Walter when he’d been in hospital following his rescue. Felicity had been surprised at the gesture, never thinking that he decision to go and visit Walter that day would make any lasting impact on Oliver’s family. They did, after all, have quite a lot going on in their lives, with Moira in jail due to her involvement in the earthquake that destroyed the Glades.

 

Because she already knew him, although not overly well, Oliver, Diggle and Felicity had all agreed that Felicity would be the one to talk to Jackson. During her interactions with him, and the rest of Stiles’ friends, she’d noticed little things that, had she not spent so much time with Oliver and Diggle, she wouldn’t have noticed before...like how Lydia was never far from Jackson’s side...or rather...Jackson was never far from Lydia’s side. When they were together they were almost always touching, even if it was just holding hands.

 

Another thing that Felicity had noticed was the certain degree of wariness between most of the others and Jackson...Erica, Boyd and Isaac most noticeably...and Allison to a lesser extent. She knew that he was the newest addition to the group of friends...but it seemed more than that. It was as if Erica, Boyd, Isaac and Allison were intimidated...if not actually frightened, of Jackson.

 

In one of the emails that he had sent her during the last month Stiles had mentioned that he and Scott were hanging out with a few of the other kids who were not very popular. Felicity could only guess that Stiles was referring to Isaac, Erica and Boyd. It was highly likely, therefore, that Jackson would have bullied the other before they’d all become friends...but deep down Felicity didn’t think that Jackson’s past animosity had anything to do with the tension within the group.      

 

Still, they were all friendly with one another...and were much more tactile with one another than Felicity ever remembered being as a teenager (although Laura had been a big fan of hugging). It wasn’t unusual to find two or three of the teenagers huddled up together. Felicity couldn’t blame them...they’d just gone through hell after all...and things probably wouldn’t start getting better until after Stiles woke up and was coherent.

 

Felicity continued to dwell on her thoughts as she drove from Verdant to the house where Stiles’ friends were staying. Scott and Allison were with Stiles for the next few hours, and then they’d be relieved for the graveyard shift by Boyd and Derek. Isaac and Erica had the early morning shift, so they’d probably already be asleep. Lydia and Jackson had, however, left the hospital only an hour or two ago, so Felicity hoped that they would be at the house, and not out getting some food or seeing the sights or whatever teenagers did when they were in love.

 

When she arrived at the house she parked out the front and walked to the front door, tapping on the door frame. The door was cautiously opened as far as the chain would allow by Lydia, who smiled when she saw Felicity.

 

“Hi, Felicity, come in,” Lydia said, unlatching the chain and opening the door up. Felicity stepped over the threshold and into the house. She could hear the soft sound of the TV in the living room, and guessed that Lydia, and maybe Jackson, had been trying to unwind after spending the majority of the afternoon at the hospital with Stiles by watching some TV.

 

“Can I get you anything? Isaac made some pasta bake this afternoon, there’s plenty in the fridge if you want some...it’s not too bad.”

 

Felicity shook her head. Oliver had brought her some Thai food from a little restaurant that he knew Felicity liked earlier before he’d headed off to see Roy.

 

“Thanks, but I’m okay. I actually wanted to speak to Jackson, if he’s here.”

 

“Why, what’s going on?” Lydia asked anxiously as Jackson appeared in the living room doorway, having obviously been listening to the conversation, his eyes narrowed in a manner that forcibly reminded Felicity of Oliver when his thoughts were going to dark places.

 

“It’s...it’s actually a private matter. Is there somewhere where Jackson and I can talk...privately?”

 

“Just in here is fine...and Lydia can hear anything you say to me. I won’t keep a secret from her...not anymore.” Jackson glanced at Lydia as he spoke, and Felicity felt herself melt a little at the pure adoration on Jackson’s face as he looked at the Strawberry blonde genius.

 

“Fine...your call.” Felicity nodded, following Lydia into the living room, where she and Jackson arranged themselves on the couch, practically glued together, while Felicity sank into a very comfortable armchair, the file grasped tightly in her fingers.

 

“First off, and I hate to sound cliché, but...you need to prepare yourself for this...it’s going to come across as a shock.”

 

The look of steely determination she got from Jackson at the comment was so similar to one she had seen on Roy’s face that Felicity almost smiled. It was amazing how alike the brothers were...how similar their mannerisms were...even though they’d never even met.

 

“I’m ready.”

 

TW/A

 

“I’m ready,” Jackson said, looking calmly at Stiles’ sister, who seemed to be doing her best to be calm herself. He could smell the uncertainty and the anxiety she felt...but also the resolve and determination. It was a combined scent that, up until now, Jackson had always associated with Stiles. The way that Felicity was drumming her fingers on the edge of the file she was carrying was also something that Jackson recalled Stiles doing on any number of occasions. It had irritated Jackson so much in the past, but now it seemed to be such a inconsequential thing.

 

“Okay...so...the thing is...I work for Oliver Queen...which you’ve probably already figured out since he’s helped out with looking after Stiles and everything.”

 

“You’re dating him, aren’t you?” Lydia asked, saving Felicity from her rambling...another trait that she shared with Stiles, obviously.

 

“No...Why does everybody think that?” Felicity protested, “I am not dating Oliver...and that’s not even relevant to this story. Anyway... a few months ago Oliver asked me to do a background check on this guy...because Oliver’s sister was dating him, and Oliver takes the whole protective big brother thing to a whole new level. Because of my job, working IT at Queen Consolidated, I had the resources to do what he wanted, and because I like my job, I did what he told me to. The guy in question’s name is Roy Harper. This is some of what I found on him. The rest isn’t relevant, but this...I think you’ll be interested in.”

 

With that said, Felicity handed over the file to Jackson, who was frowning in confusion...and more than a little irritated at how cryptic Felicity was being. Deep down, his wolf growled, but for the moment it was calmed by Lydia’s presence, her reassuring weight against Jackson’s side, and the scent of her perfume in every breath Jackson inhaled.

 

Jackson opened the file, and began skimming the information contained within. The first few pages he skipped over, but then he found a copy of a birth certificate. His eyes froze on the names in the parents section...names that had haunted him ever since he had learned them and been told of their significance. His parents had another child. Jackson glanced at the date of birth, and felt his throat tighten as he swallowed. He had a brother...an older brother. This person...this Roy Harper...shared Jackson’s blood. For the first time in Jackson’s life he was, by blood, connected to someone else living on this planet.

 

Dimly aware that Lydia was rubbing his back reassuringly, keeping him calm and preventing him from wolfing out in front of Stiles’ sister (who was oblivious to the supernatural world, despite living her teenage years in Beacon Hills, and being the best friend of a werewolf), Jackson flicked onwards, until he found copies of medical records, detailing how Roy had escaped from the car crash that killed his parents with little more that cuts and bruises thanks to the selfless actions of his mother, who had thrown herself over Roy moments before the car crashed. Jackson knew that his mother had been curled with her back to the front of the car when the car crash had taken place...it was the only reason Jackson had survived long enough for his mother to be rushed to hospital and into surgery. Now it became apparent that Jackson’s mother had saved not only her unborn son, but her almost two year old son as well.

 

Jackson continued on, seeing some information he had seen before, and quite a bit he hadn’t about the car crash, including the insurance report filed by Erica’s dad, before he reached the documents from Social Services regarding what happened to both Jackson, and Roy. Jackson had been adopted early on by the Whittlemores, who had planned to raise Jackson as their own from scratch (which was a plan doomed to fail, especially when Jackson found his birth certificate and other documents relating to the car crash when he was seven). Roy, however, had been a different story, sent to live in a foster care home...the Harpers. Roy had happily lived there up until he’d lost both of his foster parents. Then it was just foster home after foster home up until Roy dropped out of school and ran away on the fifteenth anniversary of the accident that killed his parents, just before he turned seventeen years old.

 

It was probably because of Danny’s influence over the years that Jackson didn’t question how exactly Felicity had got her hands on the information he now held in his hand. It didn’t take an IQ like Stiles or Lydia’s to know that Felicity probably shouldn’t have been able to present as much as she had using strictly legal means...but despite his adopted parents constantly lecturing him on the importance of Law and Order, Jackson couldn’t bring himself to care.   For the first time in his life he had biological family that he knew about.

 

“Does...does Roy know about me?” Jackson asked, his voice cracking a little with tension.

 

Felicity nodded, “Yes...Oliver’s telling him about it now.”

 

Jackson nodded swallowing as he looked down at the last thing in the file...a copy of a photo that Thea had taken of Roy a few weeks before the earthquake at the Queen mansion one sunny afternoon.

 

Lydia put her arms around him as they looked down at the photo together, “you two look so similar...you’re practically identical.”

 

Jackson furrowed his brow as he studied the picture. Lydia was, of course, right. Roy looked almost exactly like him...although technically, Jackson supposed, it was the other way around, since Roy was twenty months older than him.

 

A thought came to Jackson, and he scowled, looking up at Felicity.

 

“Why didn’t you mention this before now? I mean, you’ve known where I lived since I was in the second grade. Why didn’t you, I don’t know, come and tell me, or send me all this information or something. You’ve known about this for months...why didn’t you do something about it earlier?” Jackson asked, anger creeping into his voice. In response to his obvious anger Lydia, instead of moving away, like most people would if they knew about Jackson’s relatively new status as a werewolf, she inched a little closer, her grip on Jackson’s hand becoming a little tighter.

 

Felicity sighed from where she sat in the comfortable arm chair, “We did the initial search a few months ago, which is when we found out about the car crash and Roy’s past, but at the time finding out what happened to Roy’s younger sibling after the crash wasn’t really relevant. Oliver was more interested in Roy having more criminal stuff in his past, as opposed to family history,” Felicity admitted, “It was only when you guys appeared and I saw you, and realised that you and Roy were practically identical that I added everything together and did some more digging about what happened to Roy’s sibling after the car crash and Roy went into foster care.” She explained, “and it took a bit to get the details. Your dad’s a bit more conscientious about the security of his family’s records than Social Services is.”

 

Jackson snorted, “Sounds like my dad,” he agreed. It was true. Jackson knew his adopted dad was very paranoid about fraud and white collar criminals. Obviously whatever security measures he’d put in place had been no match for Stiles’ sister, despite his best efforts.

 

The very thought brought a wry grin to Jackson’s face, and he made a mental note to challenge Danny to try and break the Whittlemore’s firewall when they got back to Beacon Hills.

 

The grin on Jackson’s face, however, fell when he looked back thought the file. The Harper family, who had been Roy’s first foster home, were noted as being good foster carers, despite not having much money themselves. In every single report written by Roy’s case worker it was noted that Roy obviously loved the Harpers, and was loved by them. They even adopted Roy when he was almost four. Despite not having much money, the Harpers had loved and looked after Roy right up until they both died.

 

It physically hurt Jackson to read about how Roy had never had the privileged life Jackson had growing up. Sure, Jackson had hated his parents for years...but seeing what his brother went through, living with a loving family up until he lost both of them, and then never really having a family again, and then running away and probably having to live on the streets when he was only sixteen years old.

 

Jackson watched the news enough to know that Starling City was a rough city with a crime rate that was high (even by Beacon Hills standards.) It was one of the reasons he hadn’t protested much when Lydia volunteered him to help save Stiles. Even discounting the werewolf issue, Jackson couldn’t imagine Stiles...innocent, curious and defenceless Stiles...surviving very long in being involved in Starling City’s underbelly.

 

Reading what Roy had been through made all of Jackson’s issues, except perhaps the whole Kanima saga, seem so petty and inconsequential. It made Jackson realise how much of a brat he had been in the past, to both his parents, and to his friends...especially Lydia and Danny (who Jackson was convinced must have the patience of a saint to have put up with him over the years). Ever since Lydia and the others had saved him, and he’d become a werewolf he’d been trying to better himself, with the support of the pack (although he knew Erica, Boyd and Isaac were still wary around him), but he knew there was a long way to go before he knew that he could be genuinely happy with the person he was.

 

Now, he had additional motivation. With Stiles’ condition as it was it would at least be another week before the pack went back home, Jackson would have lots of opportunities to seek out Roy, or the other way around, so that they could get to know one another...if Roy wanted to meet Jackson.

 

Jackson’s inner securities gave a twinge at the thought. It was highly likely that Roy wouldn’t want to meet Jackson. Why would he? Jackson was the definition of a spoilt rich kid brat whose parents kept trying to buy his love and affection...the baby brother Roy had never met and the one who effectively killed their mother. Roy had every reason to hate Jackson.

 

“Jackson...it’s okay,” Lydia said in a soft voice, breaking through the thoughts Jackson’s insecurities had planted inside his head, and Jackson startled, having completely forgotten she was there. Jackson forced himself to take a steadying breath, knowing that, if he survived, Stiles would kill him if Jackson shifted in front of Felicity...and if Stiles wasn’t able to, Scott or Derek or Erica would do it for him.

 

“How well do you know Roy...in real life?” he asked, his voice sounding choked up...a fact which Jackson refused to acknowledge

 

“Not well,” Felicity admitted, “I know he’s been through a tough few months though. He was kidnapped a few months ago and the man who took him tried to execute him...and Roy didn’t care...he actually told the guy who was pointing the gun at his head to hurry up and get on with it....that nobody would care if he was dead. Luckily the Vigilante was there in time to save him...and then there was the earthquake in the Glades...Roy’s lived in the Glades for ages, and his house was burnt down in the aftermath of the Quake. I’m not sure where he’s staying at the moment though. Oliver knew where he was going to be tonight because Thea told him that she and Roy were having a movie night at the mansion.”

 

Jackson shook his head, running his fingers through his hair, not knowing what he should do. Jackson had, over the years, wondered if he had older siblings out there, but he’d never expected to find out like this...not from Stiles’ sister, of all people.

 

“Are you okay, Jackson?” Felicity asked, and Jackson let out a shaky breath and nodded.

 

“I’m fine,” he told her; although Jackson knew that it was obvious he wasn’t...he was surprised he’d managed to refrain from shifting.

 

“Okay, um...I’ll leave you to it. I’ll see you around i guess. You can keep that, ” Felicity gestured at the file in Jackson’s lap as she got to her feet, gathering her handbag and car keys in her hands. Lydia and Jackson got up and followed her out to the front door.

 

“Um...Felicity...thanks...thanks for this,” Jackson broke the silence, and he cringed when he saw the obvious surprise on her face at him thanking her, so he took another deep breath.

 

“Look, I know that Stiles and I haven’t always gotten on...and you probably hate me because I picked on him and Scott...and that’s fair enough, but I really...I appreciate you making the effort to do this.” Jackson tapped the file he was now holding with his spare hand.

 

Felicity smiled at Jackson and held out her hand, which Jackson took, shaking it (making sure he was gentle and not using werewolf strength,

 

“I hope Stiles get’s better soon...it’s not the same without him chattering away constantly in the background.” Jackson told Felicity with a small smile. Felicity snorted.

 

“Yeah...I’ve noticed that too.” She agreed, before she turned and left the house. Jackson and Lyida watched from the door as Felicity drove away, before Lydia pulled Jackson inside and closed the door, before she gently pushed Jackson against the door and kissed him. Jackson returned the kiss until Lydia drew back, needing to breath, a smile on her face. Jackson furrowed his brow.

 

‘What was that for?” he asked.

 

“I’m so proud of you,” Lydia replied, running her fingers through Jackson’s hair, “now, come on, I want to learn as much about this brother of yours as I can. If he’s dating Thea Queen there has got to be something interesting about him.

 

Jackson smirked, “It can’t just be his exceptionally good looks?” he asked, “We are related after all.”

 

Lydia rolled her eyes, “There is more to life than looking good, Jackson. I thought you would have figured that out by now.”

 

Jackson put on a look of mock horror on his face, “There’s more,” he gasped.

 

Lydia laughed, “I swear, sometimes you’re even a bigger dork than Stiles and Scott are combined.”

 

TW/A

 

The first thing Stiles noticed was the constant beeping right in his ear, breaking through the comfortable, warm darkness and into his consciousness. The cogs in his brain began ticking over, the usually hyperactive thought process slow and sluggish.

 

Hospital, Stiles’ mind eventually decided...he was in hospital.

 

The next thing Stiles noticed was the warm feeling on his hand, and he tried to move it. His whole body felt incredibly heavy, but eventually, after a lot of effort, he managed to move one of his fingers. Stiles thought he heard someone say his name, but the effort he’d put into just making his finger move had exhausted him, and he slid back into oblivion.

 

The next time Stiles was even remotely aware of his surroundings, he noticed that his body felt just as heavy as it had the last time he had been partially aware of himself. He could hear more now though. Instead of just the beeping, he could hear someone speaking, although it sounded distant and far away.

 

“...taking turns to look after you, buddy. I swear I saw Hale crying the other day...I haven’t seen him look that upset since the day of the fire. Scott looks so lost without you there beside him...although I have to agree with everything you’ve ever said about him and Allison when they are together...it’s enough to make even me cringe...and I have a sweet tooth. Don’t worry about that, by the way...Felicity, Lydia and Isaac have been making sure I’ve been eating healthy.”

 

The speaker broke off, although Stiles had heard enough to recognize his dad’s voice...although it sounded strained and fraught with emotions. It sounded broken, like it had when Stiles’ mom had died, and Stiles tried to open his eyes, to try and reassure his dad that he was okay, but his eyelids refused to open, too heavy for his exhausted body to even move.

 

“Melissa said that talking to you would help. She sends her best wishes, by the way, but I can’t stand this. Ever since you learned to talk you’ve always been the one filling the quietness. You and Claudia and Felicity were the loud ones. I’m not like that...I don’t know what to say. Please, Stiles...just wake up.”

 

‘I’m trying, dad,’ Stiles thought to himself, continuing to fight to open his eyes, but even though he was getting tired again, they refused to open.

 

“I need you, Stiles. I don’t know if I can keep going if I lose you as well. They’ve told me you’re getting stronger, but I just need you to wake up...Come back.”

 

Stiles felt like screaming in frustration as he tried to wake up, his body refusing to move, and instead his mind was drifting...drifting...drifting back into darkness.

 

The next time Stiles woke up it wasn’t like it had been, like slowly waking up after a long and pleasant sleep. Instead it was sudden, his mind flaring into awareness. For a moment Stiles didn’t know what had caused his sudden return to consciousness, and then he tried to breathe in...And choked. He couldn’t breathe! Panic surged through his system, and Stiles could hear the frantic beeping of the machine monitoring his pulse as it skyrocketed.

 

“...iles...Stiles,” Stiles dimly heard someone calling, and he strained to focus on the voice, instead of the panic coursing through his system.

 

“”Stiles...it’s the breathing tube...the Doctor’s coming and they’ll take it out...it’s okay.” The voice told him reassuringly. A hand gripped Stiles’ tightly, and Stiles weakly flexed his fingers, feebly closing them around the hand. He heard the sound of approaching footsteps, before another hand gripped his shoulder.

 

“Stiles, we’re going to take out the breathing tube, okay. When I get to the count to three I need you to cough, okay? Squeeze Scott’s hand if you understand.” An unfamiliar, but still calm voice requested.

 

Stiles tightened his grip on the hand, having already figured out that it was Scott’s, and heard Scott relay that Stiles had tightened his grip to whoever it was that had spoken.

 

‘Okay. On my count Stiles...One...two...three.”

 

Stile coughed as he felt the tube that had been down his throat being removed, and then went into a violent coughing attack that left him breathless. He was dimly aware of the oxygen mask that was put over his mouth and nose, and he inhaled, sucking in air, and feeling the lightheaded feeling that had always accompanied his panic attacks ease considerably as his breathing finally returns to normal.

 

For the first time since the warehouse, Stiles finally opened his eyes, blinking as the harsh light from overhead burned his eyes. Somebody dimmed the lights, and Stiles turned his head, spotting his dad and Scott at his bedside. His dad had tears shining in his eyes as he looked down at Stiles, his fingers gently combing through Stiles’ hair, trying to calm him down. Scott was holding Stiles hand, beaming at Stiles, the shadows under his eyes indicating that he hadn’t been sleeping much, although at the same time they are nowhere near as bad as the ones on Stiles’ dad’s face. Stiles barely noticed the hospital staff in the room, the nurses and doctors checking the monitors and making notes on his files, before they all left the room, giving Stiles, his dad and Scott some privacy. His attention was fixed on his dad and his best friend...the ones who had always been there for him, whenever he needed somebody to help him.

 

“Hey dad,” Stiles croaked out weakly.


	20. Chapter 20

There were very few moments in the life of John Stilinski that beat the moment that Stiles opened his eyes again after spending ten days in a coma. The moment he met Claudia was one, the day they got married was another, the day Claudia told him she was pregnant was another, and the day Stiles was born definitely ranked highly, but seeing Stiles’ bronze eyes looking at him, a little unfocused from the pain medication he was on, but still able to see him. John had never been so glad to hear Stiles’ voice...even if it sounded hoarse and weak, and not like Stiles at all. It was a good sign though, and it had filled John up with hope he hadn’t dared to feel since the moment he had answered his phone and been told that Stiles had been abducted from Felicity’s apartment.

 

Stiles hadn’t been conscious for long...only about five minutes all up, before he’d fallen asleep. The doctors hadn’t been concerned, telling John that it was to be expected, and that Stiles would slowly build his strength up over time and be able to stay awake for longer. They were actually surprised Stiles had lasted as long as he had considering it had been the first time he’d been awake.

 

Once he’d gotten over his initial relief at seeing Stiles conscious, and Scott had told Stiles that the rest of their friends were all fine and anxiously waiting for him to get better, John had asked the question that he’d wanted to ask Stiles ever since he’d been found in the warehouse.

 

“Stiles...can you tell me what happened in the warehouse. You’re not in trouble...I just...I need to know. I need to know the truth.”

 

John regretted the question the moment he saw the pain on Stiles’ face...the hurt look that had nothing to do with any of Stiles’ physical injuries. John knew that look on Stiles’ face meant that his son was in considerable emotional pain...and he’d been the one to put it there. John hated seeing that look on Stiles’ face...it had lived there for months after Claudia died, and now he’d hurt his son enough to cause it to reappear. Guilt flooded his system, and he tightened his grip on Stiles’ arm, since Scott hadn’t let go of Stiles’ hand.

  
“Don’t worry about it...it’s okay.” John shook his head, “You just concentrate on getting better, okay.”

 

Stiles blinked, and a tear rolled down his cheek, which John brushed away with the pad of his thumb, Stiles’ tear filled eyes fixed on John’s own eyes.

 

“I’m sorry, kiddo. It’s okay...you don’t have to tell me. I’m sure you’ve got your reasons. You’re a smart kid...sometimes I forget how smart you really are...you’ve been looking after yourself for a long time...too damn long...and I know that’s my fault. Hell...you’ve been looking after me ever since Felicity left. Sometimes I wonder who the parent really is in our house.”

 

“Scott,” Stiles croaked, his voice still hoarse and thick with emotion.

 

“What?” John said, completely confused. Scott, however, leaned forward, catching on to what Stiles meant.

 

“Yeah, buddy...what is it.”

 

“It’s...It’s your secret to tell...get...get Derek to help.”

 

John glanced at Scott, who had paled and was shifting in his chair uncomfortably.

 

“Um...you sure you don’t want to be there to help explain. Derek’s not so good at communicating...and I’ll stuff it up.”

 

“I...I don’t think I can do it...not after so long.” Stiles admitted to his best friend, leaving John looking from one to another in confusion.  

Scott was nodding, rubbing Stiles’ hand with his own, “Alright...I’ll do my best,” he promised.

 

“Dad,” Stiles whispered, and John could tell from the look in Stiles’ eyes that Stiles was losing his fight to stay awake, “Don’t shoot anyone, okay. Promise me you won’t shoot anyone.”

 

John would have snorted at the absurdity of Stiles’ request, except for the deadly serious look on his son’s face. Stiles wasn’t kidding around, he was legitimately concerned that his dad would shoot someone.

 

“As long as they’re not threatening you or Felicity, I promise I won’t shoot anyone.” John told Stiles, although he made sure that he’d added the proviso about Stiles and Felicity to cover himself. If John thought there was a threat to either of his children then he would take action.

 

“Cool...I’m sorry,” Stiles apologised, before he closed his eyes and passed out. A quick glance at the monitors at Stiles’ bedside told John that Stiles was only asleep, and that everything looked to be within normal ranges.

 

“Care to explain what that was about...why would he think I would start shooting people?” John asked Scott

 

Scott cringed and looked sheepish at the look John was sending him, refusing to meet John’s gaze.

 

“Um...it’s kind of a long story...and here isn’t the best place for it. I need to go and make some phone calls.”

 

Scott got up and almost ran out the room, and John frowned at the teenager’s retreating back.

 

“What the hell have you two got yourselves involved in?” John asked Stiles, who didn’t say anything in response.

 

TW/A

 

John followed Felicity into the house that Oliver Queen had arranged for the group from Beacon Hills to stay in, since Felicity’s apartment was, obviously, not going to work with so many people. John was staying there too, although he hadn’t been there much, preferring to spend his time either at the hospital (regardless of whose turn it was to stay with Stiles) or talking to Officer Lance, who John got on rather well with. All of the teenagers were there, in the living room, except for Lydia and Jackson, who were staying with Stiles while everyone else was busy.

 

John took a moment to cast his eyes over the assembled group. Scott was pacing by the window, holding his phone in one hand, looking rather pale, as if he was very nervous about something. Isaac was almost hiding behind Derek, shooting frightened glances at John. Erica and Boyd were flanking Derek, trying to look calm and casual, although John knew human behaviour to know that it was an act, and the pair were just as scared as Isaac was. Allison was perched on the windowsill, watching Scott as he paced, concern written across her face. She alone, out of the teenagers, didn’t look frightened, although John noted that she was uncomfortable.

 

Derek was calmly watching John from where he stood, surrounded by teenagers, although the tension in his jaw gave away the fact that even he was nervous.

 

“Shall we...should we get started?” Allison offered. John shook his head in responce to the question, confusion flittering across the faces of the rest of the people in the room, Felicity included.

 

“There’s one more person on his way. You guys seem very intent on keeping this under wraps, but there is an ongoing police investigation about what happened at that warehouse, and if someone there knows the truth, then it will make it easier to come up with a cover up.”

 

The room was silent until the sound of a car pulling up outside, and Quentin Lance knocking on the door reached John’s ears. Scott shook his head.

 

“Stiles would have thought along the same lines” he said, and the rest of the group from Beacon Hills relaxed slightly as Felicity went and answered the door.

 

“Well...he does get some things from me,” John shrugged as Felicity lead Quentin into the living room. The man was out of his police uniform, and John was pleased to note that he wasn’t armed. The younger group were already on edge enough without weapons around.

 

“Um, one last person,” Scott said, tapping his phone a few times before he set it down on the coffee table.

 

“Hi mom, we’re all set.” Scott said, and Melissa McCall’s voice came out of the phone, obviously on loudspeaker.

 

“Okay Scott...how many of you are there?”

 

“Allison, Stiles’ Dad, Felicity, Derek, Isaac, Erica, Boyd, Officer Lance...he’s the one that found us at the warehouse, and me. Jackson and Lydia are at the hospital with Stiles.”

 

John frown, looking at the phone, and then at Scott, “Melissa knows?” he asked. Scott nodded.

 

“She found out the night that Matt...um, you know, raided the police station.”

 

John nodded, his head twinging at the mention of that night. He didn’t remember much of that night, although the way Stiles had acted afterwards...obviously traumatised by something, had told him that something had happened when he’d been unconscious. Sure, the whole incident had been traumatic, but Stiles was a tough kid that was hard to shake...and the kid had been undeniably shaken by the whole thing.

 

“So, how far back does this go?” John asked.

 

“As far as Stiles and I are concerned, the night you were all looking for Laura Hale’s body in the woods.” Scott answered, sending an apologetic cringe at both Derek and Felicity. Felicity went and sat in an unoccupied armchair, and Derek stiffened slightly at the mention of his sister’s name.

 

“I knew you were both in the woods that night.” John sighed, dropping heavily onto a couch, Lance sitting down beside him.

 

“Does anyone else’s involvement go further back than that?” John asked.

 

“Mine,” Derek spoke up, “I’ve been involved in this since I was born.”

 

“Okay...does anyone want to explain what ‘this’ is?” Lance asked. Scott looked at Derek, who gave a single nod, and Scott swallowed nervously.

 

“The night...the night you found Stiles in the woods and sent him home I got bitten by an alpha werewolf.”

There was a stunned silence as John, Felicity and Lance tried to process what had just been said.

 

“Really...you expect to believe us...Werewolves...I mean, seriously kid, come on.” Lance snorted, “This isn’t Twilight you know.”

 

“You guys are going to have to show them,” Allison put in, “They’re not going to believe you otherwise. I only believed Kate when I saw Derek wolfed out.”

 

“This sounds like some story that Stiles would come up with,” John pointed out. Scott cringed, again looking to Derek for support, before he ducked his head, and...For lack of a better word, transformed. John recoiled back in his chair when Scott looked up, his eyes now glowing yellow.

 

“Holy shit,” Lance cursed, jumping up in shock.

 

“Oh my God,” Felicity whispered in shock, her eyes wide as she inched back in her seat instinctively. John glanced towards Derek Hale was standing, and startled. Derek, Erica, Boyd and Isaac had all transformed as well, the latter three with the same golden eyes as Scott, and Derek’s eyes glowing blood red. Erica was examining her nails, which were long and clawed...and the injuries sustained by the people that Lance had found in the warehouse suddenly made a lot of sense.

 

“Like Scott, said...he got bittern by an alpha werewolf. Werewolves are real.” Derek explained.

 

“Is...Is Stiles?” John asked, unable to finish the question.

 

Scott and Derek both knew what he was asking, and they both shook their heads, “Stiles is human,” Derek answered, “just like you...just like he’s always been.”

 

“Is anyone else I know a...werewolf?” John asked.

 

“Jackson is, and so is Derek’s uncle...Laura was as well.” Scott put in, his voice sounding strange through his fangs.

 

“The majority of my family was.” Derek added.

 

“So...how was Stiles involved...if he’s not a...a werewolf.” Felicity asked, obviously shaken by the fact that her best friend was a werewolf.

 

“Stiles figured out what I was...what the bite meant...before I even did,” Scott admitted, “he researched it, tried to help me adjust...learn to control it. My first full moon he chained me up in my room and stayed to make sure I didn’t get out and hurt somebody. If I lost control...I could have killed him...I almost did a couple of times.”

 

“How does this relate to what happened when Stiles was here?” Lance asked, “not that I am not very interested with what’s been happening back in Beacon Hills.”

 

“Before we get to that, I need to explain pack dynamics a bit. There are three types of werewolf. Alpha, Beta and Omega. Omegas are lone wolves...no pack and no support. They’re the ones that have the shortest lifespan, and are most often killed by werewolf hunters. Because they have no pack the often go crazy. The creature that was cutting up dead bodies and eating parts of them a few months ago...That was an omega werewolf. He hadn’t gotten to the point of killing and eating people...but he wasn’t far off.” Derek put in, everyone else listening to his every word intently.

 

“What happened to him?” John asked. Derek glanced at Allison who shuddered.

 

“My Grandfather cut him in half.” She told them, “My family has been werewolf hunters for centuries.”

 

“And that’s why Kate...lit the fire.” John said to himself, his keen investigative mind catching on.

 

“Hunters have a code. We hunt those who hunt us. What...what Kate did was wrong because there were innocents killed. According to the code we only kill a werewolf if they have killed someone. None of the Hales had done anything to warrant what happened at the time, as far as I know.”

 

“What about Alphas and Betas?” Felicity asked.

 

“Most werewolves are Betas. They are members of packs, although there is usually some sort of ranking system, especially if it is a large pack.  The Alpha is a pack leader; they are bigger and stronger than Betas and Omegas, and they are the only ones that can turn a human into a werewolf, by giving them the bite. I am an Alpha. Isaac, Erica, Boyd and Jackson are Betas. I gave them all the bite.”

 

“What about Scott?” John asked.

 

Scott shrugged, “I don’t really know,” he admitted, “Peter was the one who bit me, but I refused to acknowledge him as my alpha. Stiles was my pack, and then Allison as well...and I didn’t trust Derek...but after what’s happened it’s probably a better idea that we stick together. One pack is better than two.”

 

John felt pride in Scott well up in his chest. He’d always considered Scott to be a second son, and hearing the mature words come out of Scott’s mouth made him realise how much Scott had grown up in the last few months...not that he’d had much choice in the matter.

 

“Um...not that this isn’t informative, but this still doesn’t explain what happened to Stiles.” Lance pointed out,

 

“Being an alpha grants you ownership of the pack lands...not legally, but as far as werewolves are concerned. When...when my mother died in the fire, the role of Alpha passed on to Laura. We left, but she was still the Alpha of Beacon Hills. We went to New York, which is considered to be a fairly neutral territory. We were generally accepted there...except by a beta of the Constiablo pack. He tried to coerce Laura into marrying him, but Laura knew he only wanted her power and her pack land. If he killed her it would all pass over to him, and he would become the Alpha of Beacon Hills. She turned him down and we moved to the other side of the city. We thought it was the end of it. Laura came back to Beacon Hills and was killed by our uncle, who wanted her power. That was when he bit Scott.”

 

“After Peter died, because it wasn’t a werewolf that did it, it went back to being the next of the Hale bloodline...Derek.” Scott chimed in, although John noticed the slight twitch at the corner of Scott’s mouth...the tell that experience told him meant the boy was lying.

 

“I didn’t realise that Constiablo was still after our land...or that he was in Starling City. The night before Stiles left Beacon Hills we had a pack night at my house. When a pack member is going away our instinct is to make whoever it is smell like us, so When Stiles arrived in Starling City he smelled like us.”

 

“But...Stiles had been in town for ages...how could he have still smelt like you?”Felicity frowned. It wasn’t as if Stiles’ hadn’t showered during the time he’d been in Beacon Hills...he’d taken numerous lengthy showers while he’d been staying with her.

 

“It lingers,” Scott told her, “It would have lasted for weeks...maybe even a month, no matter what Stiles did.”

 

“Scott is right. What we didn’t know was that the same Beta werewolf that Laura turned down had been busy in the last five years. He killed the majority of his pack, including his father and older brothers, and left New York for Starling City. We can only guess that, at some point, he got Stiles scent, and recognised my scent on him, and followed it back to Felicity’s house...where they took him.”

 

“But why...what point would it have made?” John frowned, his voice rising slightly.

 

“Stiles was, essentially, bait. Don Constiablo called me off Stiles phone, telling me that if I didn’t get there within twelve hours he’d start tearing pieces off him and sending them to me. He wanted me to transfer our Pack Land to him...and he said he would let Stiles go...but when I got there Stiles had been tortured and we both knew that Constiablo wasn’t going to let him go.”

 

“What would have happened if you’d transferred pack land?” John asked, concerned about the town he was honour bound to protect.

 

“Any members of my pack that were still within Beacon Hills territory would have been killed, including any associates of ours...that would have included Scott’s mom...Danny...Allison’s dad...although he was at risk already because he’s a hunter...anyone who Constiablo would have perceived as being a threat. We got everyone that knew about werewolves that was in danger out before we left. Constiablo would have wanted to increase the size of his pack, and the more bitten werewolves there are around, especially freshly turned ones...the more chance for human casualties there is.”

 

“Oh, God,” Felicity muttered, swallowing reflexively.

 

“So...you go in to save Stiles, but you’re both about to die...what happened next?” Lance asked.

 

“I suspected a trap, so we’d made plans for Isaac and Boyd to follow me, and to lead the others to wherever I was taken. Once they were all there...they attacked.”

 

“We tried to not hurt them too badly...just enough to knock them out.” Isaac sheepishly admitted.

 

“Honestly, I’m surprised you guys didn’t lose anyone. You’re a bunch of kids...the people we found in the warehouse...they all had murder convictions to their names...they wouldn’t have been pulling their punches.” Lance muttered, shaking his head and rubbing his palm over his face.

 

“It makes sense...they all had blue eyes, and Constiablo would have enjoyed turning people who already were vicious, like him.” Allison chimed in.

 

“Blue eyes?” Felicity asked in confusion.

 

“A werewolf, not an alpha, who has blue eyes when shifted, is someone who has killed an innocent...even if they were being controlled or possessed at the time.” Derek offered in explanation.

 

“And what do golden eyes mean?” Lance asked, eyeing Scott, Erica, Boyd and Isaac cautiously.

 

“That they haven’t killed an innocent” Derek replied.

 

TW/A

 

Oliver and Diggle sat in silence as they waited for Felicity to arrive at their underground lair. Oliver had said nothing the whole time they had been listening to the explanation that Felicity, her stepfather and Lance had been given, thanks to the hidden microphone in Felicity’s pocket. Oliver had already known that Derek, Scott, and the others were werewolves...but even then, hearing it had been hard...especially the part when the initial discussion about what werewolves actually were was over, and John and Felicity pushed for more in depth descriptions of what Stiles had been involved in. It had sounded rough...and Oliver knew they were holding back...they would be stupid not to, considering there were two law enforcement officers present.

 

From what Oliver had heard, he knew that Stiles had held Derek Hale, a man who probably would weigh twice what Stiles did and was almost all muscle, up in an eight feet deep swimming pool for two hours when the older man was paralysed by the venom of a creature called a Kanima. He also knew that Stiles had been involved with the death of Derek’s uncle, Peter Hale, although Stiles’ friends were vague as to how involved Stiles had been. Oliver had initially been confused by how the others referred to Peter Hale. Sometimes, it was in past tense, which made sense because he was dead, and other times it sounded like he was still living. Then the story of how Peter Hale had been brought back from the dead got told, and Oliver hadn’t known what to think. Of course, the whole conversation centred on werewolves being real, so Oliver really couldn’t have been shocked by anything.

 

Then there was the numerous times Stiles had risked his life to protect his friends and his Dad. All of the teens could recall at least one circumstance when Stiles helped save their lives...or was the one doing all of the saving...despite the fact he was the human, and hadn’t been friends with most of the others (Scott and Allison being the exception) until very recently. There had been so much going on, especially considering it hadn’t been that long since Scott had been bitten. Between Peter, The Argents, Derek and his new pack, the Kanima, Matt, Peter’s mental attacks on Lydia and his resurrection from the dead, Gerard...It was no wonder that Stiles was hyper vigilant about his surroundings.

 

Stiles hadn’t had an easy time of it either...although somehow he’d avoided ending up in hospital. He’d been thrown against walls, knocked out and thrown in a dumpster, paralysed...and god knew what else. When John had asked the pack about what happened to Stiles the night of the Lacrosse final they had been quiet, and Scott admitted that, despite being asked, Stiles had never told anyone who it was that had hurt him.

 

Except him, Oliver thought with a pang...glad that Gerard Argent was dead for what he’s put the others through, Stiles specifically. After everything that he’d been through, especially once Oliver considered what had happened in Starling City, Stiles would be lucky if he didn’t have some sort of PTSD...he probably already had it before he’d come to Starling City...and after being kidnapped, tortured and then shot by Contaiblo’s pack, it was bound to get worse.

 

After they had left the pack, Felicity had taken her stepdad to the hospital, where he was going to spend the night. Felicity had, apparently offered to spend the night there too, but John had waved her off, telling her to go home and get some rest.

 

Instead she was heading back to Verdant, where Oliver and Diggle waited, so they could digest the involvements together.

 

“Stiles is a bigger trouble magnet than you ever were.” Diggle said, breaking through Oliver’s thoughts. Oliver leaned against one of the supporting columns.

 

“I wish he wasn’t,” Oliver murmured softly in reply, “the kid’s been through hell already, and he’s only sixteen. The first night we met him I noticed how on edge he was...but I never expected that it was something like this.   That it was this bad.”

 

“I know man,” Diggle agreed, “Do you think he’s going to recover...mentally?”

 

Oliver shook his head in reply, “His friends are supportive...his pack,” Oliver corrected, remembering that, during the conversation they had been eavesdropping on, all of the werewolves had referred to Stiles as pack. Pack meant family; Derek had told Felicity and her stepfather.

 

Oliver didn’t doubt it either. He’d spent some time with Felicity at Stiles’ bedside while the kid had been unconscious, and when they’d been there at the same time as any of Stiles’ friends the concern and the genuine friendship and affection that all of the teenagers...even Jackson, who had up until recently hated Stiles, bore for Stiles had been obvious from the looks on their faces as they had looked down at their beaten, but not broken, friend.

 

The pair were drawn by the musing of the basement door opening and Felicity entering the lair, hurrying down the stairs in the casual ballet flats that she wore when she wasn’t at work. Oliver moved to greet her, practically picking her up as he hugged her. Felicity clutched onto Oliver, and Oliver felt her bury her face in his broad shoulder.

 

“It’s okay,” Oliver soothed, “He’s okay... He’s going to be okay.”

 

“For how long though?” Felicity asked, “He’s been running around with werewolves!”

 

“They’ve looked after him, though...protected him.” Oliver reminded her, “And Stiles is smart...he’s gotten himself out of trouble before...just like you.”

 

Felicity sagged against Oliver, completely drained by the events of the evening, “He was supposed to be okay,” Felicity whispered, her voice thick with pain and grief at the loss of Stiles’ childhood, “He was supposed to be safe”.   Behind her glasses tears filled her eyes.

 

“I know,” Oliver sympathised, understanding how Felicity had felt...how much it had hurt to realise that, while he’d been on the island, Thea had all but grown up and made many of the same bad choices as Oliver himself had in his youth.

 

“He could’ve died, Oliver...and I wouldn’t have known why.”

 

“But he didn’t,” Oliver reminded her, “he’s going to be okay...he’s out of the coma, he’s healing, and his friends are going to look after him. They’ll look after him like we look after you and you and Diggle look after me.”

 

“Did you know...at the warehouse, did you know?”

 

“I saw enough to suspect. I already knew werewolves were real...Slade told me while we were on the island, but Derek never actually said it...it was implied though. What they said tonight only confirmed what I already suspected...I didn’t want to say anything before I knew the truth.”

 

“It’s fair enough...I just feel so stupid. I was best friends with a werewolf...and spent a lot of time with her family, most of whom were also werewolves...and I never noticed anything.”

 

“Well,” Diggle pointed out, “It’s not as if it’s general knowledge that werewolves are real. I wouldn’t be too upset about it.”

 

Felicity sniffed, wiping her eyes and easing away from Oliver a little.

 

“I suppose this does explain the way that Laura always seemed to be able to find Stiles when he wandered off.”

 

TW/A

 

Derek was silent as he slunk down the hallways of the hospital, having slipped out of the house while the rest of the pack were engrossed in a movie, or sleeping. He knew that the Sherriff was at the hospital alone, thanks to Lydia and Jackson, and he wanted to speak the Stiles’ dad in private. This seemed like the opportune moment.

 

Derek paused at the door to Stiles’ room, before he quietly tapped on it and pushed it open. The room was dark, only lit by the glare of the monitors at Stiles’ bedside, casting an eerie light over Stiles’ already too pale skin.

 

Sherriff Stilinski sat alone in a chair at Stiles’ bedside, watching as Stiles slept. Derek took a moment to close his eyes and listen to the sound of Stiles’ heartbeat and breathing. Stiles’ heart was beating at it’s usual sleeping rate...faster than most others, but still steady and within the normal range. His breaths were even, although still a little shallow, thanks to Stiles’ cracked ribs.

 

“His doctor is really pleased with how he’s going,” the Sherriff said, breaking the silence. Derek stepped forward away from the door.

 

“Sir,” he greeted respectfully, a little nervous in the presence of Stiles’ dad.

 

“Have a seat, Derek.” The Sherriff offered, and Derek cautiously sat down beside him at Stiles’ bedside. Derek hadn’t been this close to Stiles since the day of the shooting, having preferred to watch Stiles from beside the window when he was staying with the teen while Stiles had been in the coma.

 

“I...I wanted to apologise for Stiles getting involved in this. I used him...I thought he would be the best way to keep Scott tethered when he first got bitten. I should have discouraged him ore from being involved. Now...now he’s hurt, and it’s my fault.”

 

Derek startled when he heard the Sherriff snort in amusement, “Derek...I may not know my son as well as I like to think I do, but I know for one that nobody could ever pull Stiles out of this if he didn’t want to be pulled out of it. You discouraging him would have done absolutely nothing...in fact, he would probably have wanted to be more involved...and he would have ended up in hospital...or worse, a hell of a lot earlier than this. He’s loyal, stubborn, and determined...his mother was too. Felicity...she takes after her dad in looks, but she acts a lot like Claudia did...and Stiles...not a day goes by when he doesn’t do or say something that reminds me of her.”

 

Derek sat in silence as the Sherriff spoke about Stiles’ mother. He remembered meeting he on a couple of occasions, although Stiles hadn’t really hanging out with Felicity, Laura and rest of the Hales until after his mother got sick and then died.

 

“She sounds like she was a wonderful person,” Derek said carefully, knowing from experience how people saying things like that could hurt. The Sherriff chuckled.

 

“Yeah...she was. The thing is, Derek...you shouldn’t blame yourself...not for any of this. Scott getting bitten wasn’t your fault...neither was Laura dying...or what happened to Stiles. It wasn’t your fault. You’ve been shoved into a position that no-one sane would want. From what you said it seemed like Laura was the one who was going to be the leader...not you, so you never needed to learn how to lead...then...all of a sudden, you’ve got seven teenagers relying on you to help keep them alive...and, because they’re teenagers with teenage issues, and in the majority of cases a lot more than the normal teenage issues going on...they’ll probably fight and argue with you every step of the way...but the thing is...You’re not much past a teenager yourself. You’re only...six years older them...and in the grand scheme of things, that’s not much, especially when you were never supposed to become the leader...alpha...whatever. You’re doing the best job you can...and that’s all anyone can ask of you.”

 

Derek stared at the Sherriff in shock at what the older man had just said, not knowing what to say, his throat drying up completely, leaving him unable to talk.

 

The Sherriff reached out his arm and put it on Derek’s shoulder, “and while we’re on the guilt issue...what happened the night of the fire...it wasn’t your fault. That was on Kate Argent...not you. No matter what happened in the lead up to that night...she was the one that set the whole thing up, and she was the one that lit the fire, not you.”

 

Derek’s eyes narrowed at what the Sherriff said...and what he left unsaid, and he looked at the older man in confusion. The Sherriff had a grim smile on his face.

 

“Derek...I’ve seen a lot of kids over the years with guilt issues...hell...my son tops the list...but I’ve never forgotten you that night, the look on your face. God...you didn’t deserve what happened to them...none of them did, regardless of what they were. Your face from that night haunted me...and then we found out that Kate Argent was the one who did it, and it didn’t take an IQ like Stiles’ to figure it out. She wanted information...you were sixteen...she was ten years older...she was hot...and she knew how to use it. I’m just mad that she’s dead so I can’t nail her for what she did to you as well.”

 

With that the Sherriff got to his feet, stretching his back, before he bent over and kissed the top of Stiles’ head.

 

“Are you okay if I leave him with you for a bit...I need to get some fresh air...I might go check on Scott and the others?”

 

Derek nodded, and shifted his chair closer to Stiles as Stiles’ dad walked towards the door.

 

“Sir,” he said, and the Sherriff stopped and looked over his shoulder.

 

“Yeah, Derek?” he asked.

 

“I think Stiles is a lot like you...more than you realise.”

 

A smile crossed the Sherriff’s face, and he ducked his head.

 

“Yeah...you might be right about that.”


	21. Chapter 21

Felicity wasn’t sure what she was expected to see when she slipped into Stiles’ hospital room, a photo album tucked under her arm. It was early, but outside the room the hospital was already buzzing with activity. Inside, though, the room was still dark, sunlight peaking through the windows.

 

There was enough light in the room to see clearly, and Felicity came to an abrupt stop when she realised what she had walked in on.

 

Stiles was on the hospital bed, sleeping, his chest rising and falling with every breath he took, his eyelashes looking particularly long and dark against the pale skin of his cheeks. It made Stiles look years younger than he was, especially with the way his hair was sticking up. It wasn’t what had startled Felicity though. She’d reflected numerous times during her brother’s coma that he looked ridiculously young laying in a hospital bed with tubes going everywhere, so the observation didn’t surprise her.

 

The surprising part was Derek Hale, sitting slouched in one of the chairs beside Stiles’ bed, his hand resting on top of Stiles’. Derek’s head was lolled to one side, and Felicity could hear him snoring softly.

 

“Derek” she whispered, not wanting to risk getting too close before waking him up. Even before learning Derek’s true nature she would have been cautious. Oliver and Diggle had often told her to use caution waking anyone up, in case they turned violent. Felicity hoped that, if he was startled, Derek wouldn’t accidently hurt Stiles, since their hands were actually touching.

 

Felicity let out a breath she hadn’t even noticed that she was holding when Derek startled out of his doze, but didn’t lash out at Stiles. Instead he looked sleepily over his shoulder at her, looking so much like the teenager he had been back before the fire.

 

“Felicity,” he greeted with a yawn, moving to rise to his feet, but Felicity shook her head, reaching out a hand and pushing him back down gently, sitting in the unoccupied chair.

 

“Don’t leave just because I’m here, Derek. John said that he left you with Stiles last night. Scott and the others decided that he looked tired and talked him into actually sleeping in a bed. Apparently Lydia can be very convincing when she puts her mind to it.”

 

Derek nodded, “That doesn’t surprise me,” he commented, before he fell silent. Felicity bit her lip, trying to think of something to say to break the silence, which seemed to drag on and on. Laura had always been chatty, up until the fire. There had never been a silence between them, one of them always filling the quiet when the other didn’t know where to say. It was very much like Scott and Stiles were.

 

“So...” Felicity commented eventually, breaking the silence, “bet you guys used to hate it when I came over when we were all kids...having to hide who you really were.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Derek abruptly apologised, and Felicity frowned.

 

“What for?” she asked in confusion. Derek looked at her, his eyes filled with sadness.

 

“That we never told you before. Laura wanted to tell you, before the fire, but mom wouldn’t let her. They used to argue about it all the time. Laura considered you and Stiles to be pack, she wanted you to know the truth...and then the fire happened, and Laura realised why mom hadn’t let her tell. If you knew...if you were told...you would have been in danger too. You and your family. Kate targeted the entire pack that night...if you and Stiles had been there that night you might have been killed as well”

 

“Hey, Derek...I’m not mad that Laura didn’t tell me. Your mom did the right thing...we wouldn’t have stood a chance if Kate Argent had decided to go after Stiles or me. I’m more annoyed with myself that I didn’t figure it out in the, what, fifteen years Laura and I were friends, when Stiles had it worked out with 24 hours of Scott being bitten. I mean, granted, Scott’s not the most subtle of people, but still.”

 

Derek gave a small smile, “I don’t think those two really have boundaries as far as one another a concerned.” He admitted, “Scott seemed so out of character when Stiles wasn’t around these last few weeks. I thought it was just because he wasn’t comfortable around the others...he hasn’t really been a member of my pack for long, but now I’m thinking Stiles being gone was more of the problem.”

 

“Do you remember when we all used to go to the playground and the kids...Cora...Scott and Stiles...they all used to just run crazy...and Stiles and Scott were always the first ones to collapse...and I just resailed that was because of the werewolf thing...wasn’t it?”

 

Derek nodded, “Cora and the others were all older and bigger than Scott and Stiles though...and Scott had his asthma, so it wasn’t that obvious to somebody who didn’t know.”

 

“True. Thinking back there were a lot of times that hinted at the truth, wasn’t there. I mean, you used to carry Stiles around like he weighed nothing at all...I mean, I know he was scrawny...he still is, but by the time he was eight I couldn’t lift and carry him very far anymore...and yet you’ve carried him for miles without obviously getting tired.”

 

Derek nodded, his gaze fixed on Stiles, still sound asleep on the bed in front of them.

 

“Do...do you remember the night Stiles ran away from home?” Derek asked. Felicity closed her eyes in pain at the memory. It had only been a few weeks after their mother had died, and Felicity had still been reeling from the loss. John had been finding solace in the bottom of a bottle of whisky, and Stiles hadn’t spoken for ten days straight, was barely eating, and hadn’t slept through the night in God knew how long. At Melissa’s encouragement, Felicity had gone for a sleepover at Laura’s, leaving Stiles at home on his own with John. All had been okay, until Felicity had gotten home at ten o’clock the next morning to find that Stiles had slipped out at some point of the night while John was passed out, and now John frantically searching the surrounding neighbourhood looking for his missing son.

 

Terrified that something had happened to Stiles, especially as it had been a very cold and wet night, Felicity had called as many people as she could. Melissa had arrived with Scott and tried to calm John down, and Laura, Derek, their parents, and their uncle Peter, had all come to help search the woods, along with some of the deputies who were off duty, and all of the Stilinski’s neighbours.

 

Three hours later Laura and Derek had come striding out of the trees, Stiles cradled in Derek’s arms, limp and unconscious. Aside from a case of mild hypothermia, a few shallow cuts and bruises and a bump to the head Stiles had been okay...but it had been a lesson learned. From then onwards John stopped drinking to the point of passing out and Felicity either took Stiles out and about with her, took him to Scott’s, or Laura came to Felicity’s house so that Stiles wouldn’t feel so alone.

 

“You scent tracked him, that day, didn’t you?”

 

Derek nodded, “it rained that night, which made it harder, but yes...Laura cried when we found him alone in the woods. She said it hurt to see three people she considered to be pack so upset.” His eyes were filled with pain as he spoke, and Felicity realised that Derek was lost in his memories of Laura, and probably wallowing in his own pain from losing his sister.

 

“I want to show you something,” Felicity offered, seeing Derek’s distress, and hoping to cheer him up a little, picking up the photo album from where she had put it down on the floor with her handbag. She put it in Derek’s lap, watching as Derek moved to hold it so that it wouldn’t slide off.

 

“It’s my photos from back in Beacon Hills...pretty much from when my mom died up until when I left to go to college.” She explained when Derek began to flick through it, noticing how his eyes lingering on the images of Laura in the book...and the ones of a much younger Stiles than the one lying in front of them, oblivious to their presence.

 

Felicity bit her lip when Derek found the photo of him carrying a sleeping Stiles...that Halloween that had been less than a year before the fire. His expression softened, and she could see his eyes misting over, although no tears fell from his eyes

 

“He was so tired that night,” Felicity recalled softly, and Derek nodded before she continued, “Of course...he was trying to keep up with werewolves all night...and he’d been hyped up all day, so I wasn’t surprised when he flaked like that. I think I crashed when I went to bed that night just from trying to keep up too. Laura took trick or treating very seriously.”

 

“She did,” Derek nodded, “how much do you think Stiles remembers of...of before the fire? He’s never said anything to me about how he used to follow me around...and how he used to play with my younger siblings. He knew who I was, when I met him and Scott in the woods the day after Scott got bitten, but that’s been the extent of it.”

 

“It was only six years ago, Derek,” Felicity pointed out... “And just after he got here I came home from work and found him looing in this album, at the photos of all of us together...and he was crying, so yeah...I’d say he remembers...I wouldn’t think he’d mention how you used to carry him around and all that...he is a teenage boy after all. I know, it is Stiles we’re talking about, but he does have some concept of pride...and from what I’ve heard you guys haven’t been close enough to talk about that kind of thing for very long. He probably didn’t want to risk annoying you by mentioning your family.”

 

Derek snorted and nodded, “I remember him at the funeral. You were hugging Laura and he just came up beside me and stood there...not saying anything...not touching me or trying to hug me...just standing there if I needed him. I never told him how much that meant...to have him there beside me...I mean, I know he was only ten...but...”

 

“It meant a lot...I get it,” Felicity smiled. She did. Stiles often had a way with people, of making them feel better...even if he wasn’t saying anything. Felicity had noticed it first when their mom was sick and she felt at her worst, and Stiles would be able to cheer her up.

 

She and Derek fell into another silence, although this one was far more comfortable than the previous. Ten minutes passed before Felicity spoke again.

 

“Can I ask you a question?”

 

Derek shrugged and nodded, and Felicity bit her lip and glancing at Stiles, before she built up the courage to ask.

 

“Why do you think Stiles has never wanted the bite? When Officer Lance asked last night about injuries he said it didn’t make any sense. Apparently the warehouse was covered in blood, but aside from Stiles and the people in the other...gang...that were dead, nobody was obviously injured other than being unconscious. You said that werewolves have advanced healing powers...if Stiles was a werewolf he would have been fine.”

 

Derek sighed, “Stiles has never wanted the bite, as far as I know. I considered offering it to him when I was putting together my pack...but before I had a chance he approached me and said that if I even tried to bite him he’d find a way to kill me slowly and creatively. He’s resourceful enough to be able to follow through with that threat, so I decided that he was better off as is. He even put his desire to remain human, no matter what happened, on paper and made me sign it, promising that I wouldn’t bite him...even if he was dying.”

 

“Kind of like a do not resuscitate?’ Felicity asked for clarification, and Derek nodded.

 

“A well balanced werewolf pack has a few humans in it to keep the werewolves anchored and still in touch with their humanity, so it wasn’t an issue. Getting the bite isn’t without risk. It doesn’t always work.”

 

“Like with Jackson becoming the Kanima, and Lydia being immune?”

 

“Those are the better case scenarios,” Derek said softly, “We still don’t know why Lydia is immune but...but if the body of a normal human rejects the bite it useually means a very slow and very painful death for them. I had enough werewolves to stabilise the pack, especially now with Jackson and Scott, so I didn’t want to take the risk with Stiles. If he died because of me then Scott would have killed me, and if he didn’t the Argents would have had another reason to want me dead, and then, if Scott told your dad that i was involved in Stiles’ death, he would have wanted me dead too...and I didn’t want any more enemies, not with everything else that was happening at the time.”

 

“So...if you had the chance, ignoring the fact that Stiles made you sign a do not bite, would you have bitten Stiles that night...at the warehouse?”

 

Derek hesitated before he spoke, “I would have still respected his wishes and not bitten him...but I would have regretted it for the rest of my life if he died. The bite probably wouldn’t have worked...he was too badly injured. Becoming a werewolf takes a lot out of you, I’ve been told. People who are bitten to save them from death because of injuries or advanced illnesses often die because their bodies physically don’t have the strength in them to handle the transition, despite how mentally strong they are, and how much they want the bite.”

 

“So...no guarantees, huh?”

 

Derek nodded, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb against the back of Stiles’ hand. Felicity was fairly certain Derek wasn’t even aware that he was doing it.

 

“It doesn’t matter now; the doctors think he’ll physically make a full recovery. John...John’s more worried about Stiles’ mental health now,” she told him.

 

“We’ll look after him,” Derek told her, “It’s what pack is all about...protecting and looking after one another. It’s thanks to Stiles that the pack exists in the first place...we won’t let him suffer. We’ll get him through this, I promise.”

 

Felicity smiled as she surveyed Derek as he spoke. She wasn’t exactly sure if he was talking to her or to Stiles, but she got the message. Between his family and his pack...and really, it was basically all the same thing, Stiles would be well looked after.

 

“I think Laura would be really proud of you, Derek...of the man...the alpha...that you’ve become. You’ve come a long way from the little kid who used around in the trees naked and refuse to put clothes on. Your mom would be proud of you too,” Felicity told him, honesty in every word.

 

Derek blushed when Felicity mentioned the naked running in the woods...something she’d been told about extensively by Laura...and even witnessed once when Derek was six, and his eyes filled with grief at the mention of Laura and their mother. Felicity didn’t hesitate, putting her arms around Derek and pulling him into a bear hug. He stiffened at first, rigid in Felicity’s arms, but then he slowly relaxed into the embrace, his head lowered so it rested on Felicity’s shoulder, tears leaking out of his eyes as Felicity hugged him...the last living piece of Laura left walking on this earth other than herself and Peter.

 

“Did I actually die and go to some weird alternate reality or something?” a hoarse voice asked, and Derek and Felicity sprung apart, looking at Stiles, who had his eyes open and was grinning weakly up at them.

 

“Stiles!” Felicity mock whined in protest, while Derek gripped Stiles’ hand.

 

“Don’t you ever come that close to dying, again...you got that?” Derek growled, although his cheeks were still damp with tears and his voice rather choked up with emotion. Felicity almost flung herself on top of Stiles as she pulled him into a hug, remembering at the last moment to be gentle.

 

“You’re an idiot and I love you, but the next time you get involved in something potentially dangerous I do not want to only find out about it after you’ve almost been killed.”

 

“Sorry, Felicity,” Stiles apologised sheepishly, before he glanced at Derek, “and Sour wolf I am making no promises.”

 

“I don’t suppose you’ll promise to never step in the way of a bullet that was meant for me either?” Derek asked. Stiles shook his head.

 

“Nope,’ he replied. Derek sighed and rolled his eyes, moving his eyebrows at the same time in a look of exasperation that Felicity vividly remembered seeing on Laura’s face numerous times.

 

“One of these days I’m going to rip...” Derek began to growl, although it was obvious to Felicity that it wasn’t serious

 

“My throat out,” Stiles interrupted, “with your teeth. Yeah, heard it all before. I love you too Sourwolf.”

 

Felicity narrowed her eyes, looking from her brother to Derek, a budding suspicion building in her mind.

 

If it was real, then Laura, had she been alive, would have been in hysterics.

 

TW/A

 

Lydia wasn’t expecting Stiles to be awake when she walked into his hospital room, so when she heard a voice say “Hi Lydia” when she walked into the room it was a surprise.

 

“Stiles...I didn’t think you’d be awake,” Lydia smiled, sitting down beside him. Now that Stiles was doing better the roster had been eased off, which meant that Stiles was alone for short periods of time (about an hour, no more than ninety minutes, and sometimes only half an hour, but Stiles was never alone at night time.) It had given the rest of the pack more freedom to explore Starling City before they headed back to Beacon Hills.

 

Stiles’ doctors had guessed that Stiles would need to stay in hospital for at least four more days, although it would probably be about a week, and then it would be another four or five days before he was well enough to fly back to Beacon Hills and finish off his recovery there.  

 

For the moment though Stiles was bed bound, and getting increasingly bored with being cooped up.

 

“I woke up not that long ago,” Stiles said with a shrug, a slight wince crossing his features when the gesture pulled on the stiches holding his back together, “Dad and Officer Lance are having a buddy cop day. Where’s Jackson...you guys are normally joined at the hip?”

 

“He and the rest of the werewolves went for a run. Apparently there is a big wooded area out behind the Queen property that they were going to check out. Felicity said it would be fine; no-one goes out there, so they won’t be seen. They’ll be back later this afternoon or early in the evening,” Lydia offered in explanation, smoothing out Stiles’ blankets busily.

 

Lydia didn’t mention Allison, and Stiles didn’t ask about her. They both knew that Allison and Scott had stayed with Stiles the previous night, there to reassure him and calm him back down from the nightmare induced panic attacks that left him once again struggling to breathe. It was why Stiles wasn’t alone at night time, so that he had someone there in case he had a nightmare or a panic attack.

 

“Can I ask you a question?” Stiles queried in a soft, uncertain voice. Lydia frowned and nodded

 

“Yes, of course you can.”

 

“Me not telling my dad and my sister about the truth and getting Scott and Derek and Allison to do it for me, does it make me a coward?”

 

Lydia quickly shook her head, “No, Stiles. They needed to know the truth, and you physically weren’t strong enough to do it. Your throat is still sore from the breathing tube, you could barely speak without pain, and you could only stay awake for a few minutes at a time. Nobody thinks you were a coward for asking them to do it. Scott told me what you said, and it’s so true. It’s their bombshell to drop. I think you made a smart choice there.”

 

“It must be the painkillers, did Lydia AMrtin just compliment my intelligence?” Stiles joked with a smile, and Lydia grinned.

  
“Don’t tell Jackson. You might be in the same pack, but that doesn’t mean he’ll go easy on you once Lacrosse practises start up again.”

 

Stiles groaned at the thought, dropping his head back onto the pillows, missing his favourite pillow from back home.    

 

“Were you annoyed that you missed out on the big reveal?” Stiles asked curiously after a short pause.

 

Lydia shook her head, “no...Felicity and your dad needed to hear it from Scott...he’s the one that they know the best out of all of us except for you. Allison and Scott told me what was said the next day. I think having Scott’s mom on speaker was a good idea...I think hearing her talk about it would have helped your dad.”

 

Stiles nodded in agreement and Lydia hesitated, strangely uncertain all of a sudden. Something had twigged in her brain when Scott and Allison had told her what had been said to Stiles dad, and she wanted to ask Stiles about it while they were alone.

 

“Whenever I’ve asked, whoever I’ve asked, I’ve always been told that it was Jackson that saved me the night...the night I was attacked by Peter.”

 

Stiles nodded, “he was the one with you when the ambulance came,” he agreed.

 

“I never spoke to Jackson about it...I never asked him what happened...but then, Scott and Allison told me that it was you...you were the one that got between Peter and I, you were the one that protected me and made sure he didn’t kill me. You risked you life to protect me, going face to face with the same Alpha werewolf that had been killing people all over town...the one who bit your best friend and who chased you both around the town for the previous few months.”

 

“It’s not that scary, I do it with Derek all the time.” Stiles shrugged, and Lydia sent him a pointed glance.

 

“Stiles...were you the one that saved me that night?”

 

“Jackson would have done it if he’d been there,” Stiles defended himself; “I was just looking for you in the right spot. It’s not that big a deal.”

 

“Stiles...it is a big deal...why didn’t you ever say anything?”

 

“Because it wouldn’t have made a difference, and I didn’t want how you felt about me to be affected by that night. Like I said, anybody would have done it...even Jackson.”

 

Lydia shook her head at how selfless Stiles was, brushing aside his own achievements and actions as if they meant nothing. She adopted a stern tone of voice as she focused on Stiles’ face, her eyes locked onto his, making sure he was paying attention to her.

 

“I know that you think that you’re the weakest member of this pack...because you’re not a wolf and you’re not trained to kill werewolves...but I think that your humanity is what makes you the strongest member of the pack. You see these things happen...Peter about to kill me, Derek about to get shot at the warehouse...and you dive in and save the day. I think you’re the strongest member of the pack...you know that? You’re a hero...and don’t you ever doubt that.”

 

TW/A

 

Lydia’s words had given Stiles something to think about. It was scary how well she’d been able to read what thoughts were going through his head...and how accurate she had been.

 

Stiles had never regretted his choice to turn down the bite when Peter hale had offered it to him, but he could not honestly deny the fact that he felt like, of the pack, he was the least useful, especially now that Lydia and Danny were both involved, giving the pack alternative options when it came to researching. Even Peter, as much as Stiles didn’t trust him, would know a hell of a lot more about the supernatural than Stiles did.

 

For a long time Stiles hadn’t even known where he stood in relation to Derek and his pack. Sure, Stiles knew he was a member of Scott’s pack, like Allison was, but Stiles hadn’t known what Derek and his betas had thought of him. He’d liked to think that they thought of him, at least, as an ally and a friend.

 

Now he knew that they considered him to be pack, and that, for the moment at least, two packs had become one, even after what Allison had done under the influence of her grandfather’s hate filled words.

 

Knowing that the pack had come to his rescue...and Derek’s words to him in the warehouse, which Stiles still remembered, even though he’d been in a lot of pain and about to pass out at the time, had reassured him that he belonged in the pack...he was one of them, but it hadn’t really done much about Stiles’ thoughts about being the weakest member of the pack. Sure, Lydia wasn’t trained either...but no one could ever describe Lydia Martin as being weak. Besides, Lydia was Jackson’s anchor. Anyone who messed with Lydia would also be messing with Jackson...which would be a fatal mistake.

 

Lydia’s words, however, had helped, although Stiles knew that it wouldn’t be the end of it. He knew his head, and he knew that it would take a long time for his feelings of inadequacy regarding the pack to be resolved. Stiles had far too much history with having self depreciating thoughts, as well as more anxiety than was healthy, to mean that he would have a quick recovery.

 

“Stiles?” a voice broke through his thoughts, and Stile blinked, having been so absorbed in his own turbulent thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Scott and Derek walk into his room. Stiles blinked and rubbed his hand over his face, glancing at the clock at the wall and noticing that several hours had passed

 

“Hey...Lydia said you guys went for a run earlier...was it good?”

 

“It was nice to be able to get out and use a bit of energy,” Scott nodded.

 

Stiles rolled his eyes, “I feel your pain...I’m going nuts in here...seriously.”

 

“It won’t be for much longer...It won’t be long and you’ll be back at home with us.” Scott told Stiles, sitting on the edge of Stiles’ bed and putting his hand on Stiles’ wrist. Stiles flopped his head back on the pillows with a heavy sigh.

 

“What’s wrong?” Scott asked, and Stiles could hear the concern in his voice.

 

“Nothing...I’m...I’m just frustrated...and bored. They’re not letting me take my adderal when I’m on the pain meds, so I literally cannot focus on anything.” Stiles was telling the truth. He hated not being on his meds. It made it impossible to keep his overactive mind focused on one thing...even watching TV couldn’t keep his mind occupied for long, much to Stiles’ distress.

 

“You seemed pretty intent on something when we walked in,” Scott pointed out, and Stiles gave a small shrug, wincing when the gesture pulled at his stiches. He really needed to remember that he shouldn’t shrug his shoulders like that.

 

“Just thinking about stuff,” he told them. This time it was Derek rolling his eyes at Stiles’ evasiveness, but neither of the werewolves pushed for details...something for which Stiles was extremely grateful.

 

Some things he was happy to be open about...but others he wasn’t ready to talk about just yet.


	22. Chapter 22

“So...what’s up with Derek?”

 

“What” Scott asked, confused at Stiles’ sudden question. He hadn’t been at the hospital very long, having gone out for lunch with Allison.

 

“Derek...what’s up with him? This morning he and Felicity had this massive heart to heart. He stayed here all night with me...he’s never done anything like that for me before...and it’s not like it’s the first time I’ve risked my neck to save his life.”

 

“Dude...you took a bullet for him, and you’re pack...of course he’s been visiting you. He blames himself for you being taken, for not knowing that Constiablo was here in Starling City.”

 

“Why...it’s not like he could have stopped me from coming here?” Stiles asked.

 

Scott shrugged, “Yeah...and he knows that...but, I don’t know, maybe he would have sent one of us with you or something...to watch your back or whatever.”

 

“Yeah...maybe,” Stiles shrugged, “except for the fact that if he did that then the...the other pack would probably have killed whoever it was and taken me anyway...or taken both of us. Every single member of that pack had blue eyes Scott...they’d all killed someone. They’d all killed an innocent. I don’t think they would have hesitated before killing one of us...especially if they had more than one captive. As long as they had someone to act as bait for Derek, they wouldn’t have cared. One of you guys...you wouldn’t have stood a chance against Constiablo’s pack. Even Derek wouldn’t have been able to hold off the entire pack for very long.”

 

Scott sighed and nodded, conceding that Stiles had a very valid point. Really, it was a minor miracle that the Beacon Hills pack hadn’t had any fatalities. Sure...Stiles had gone very close, but other than that, and Allison’s slight concussion...which was okay now, everyone was fine.

 

“Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe he’s just freaked out because you almost died...hell...you had to get shocked back to life...three times. I mean...I know we’ve had people hurt before...but this time it was really close...and, well, you’re human. It makes sense that Derek’s a little more worried when you’re hurt compared to the rest of us.

 

“Because I’m weaker?” Stiles asked, his voice thick with bitterness. Scott sighed, knowing that Stiles was getting frustrated being stuck in bed. Stiles always had been a difficult patient, according to Scott’s mom.

 

“No...because you take longer to heal.” Scott answered, “you’re not weak...you’re one of the strongest people I know. You...you hold the pack together, you know that, don’t you? It was so weird to have you gone. Back in Beacon Hills before this happened it felt...it felt wrong to be doing pack stuff without you there. Even Erica and Isaac noticed it, so it wasn’t just me.”

 

Stiles shrugged and slumped against the pillows, “Lydia knows I was there the night Peter attacked her,” he told Scott, “she said something similar.”

 

“Well...there you go...have you ever known Lydia to be wrong about something,” Scott grinned. Stiles smiled sheepishly in response.

 

“No.” he admitted, “I don’t think she ever can be wrong. It’s just not possible.”

 

“How...how are you going with the whole thing between her and Jackson?” Scott tentatively queried, not wanting to upset Stiles. Stiles, in response, sighed.

 

“I don’t know. I had a lot of time to think about it while Felicity was at work, and...we were probably never going to work out anyway. We’re too similar. We’re both smart, and we’re both used to being right...we’d always be arguing. She’s perfect, I’ll probably always think she is, but she and Jackson, now that Jackson’s not being such a douche...it kind of works. Of course, if he hurts her, I’m going to get some wolfs bane bullets from Allison’s dad and shoot him in the family jewels.”

 

“That sounds painful,” a voice from the doorway observed, and Scott whipped around, relaxing only a little when he spotted Oliver Queen standing in the doorway.

 

“Er...hi Mr. Queen,” he offered uncertainly, not sure what to say in order to address the man. They hadn’t seen each other very often in the past week, and every time they had encountered each other Felicity had been with Oliver to ease any tension between him and the werewolves. Now though Felicity wasn’t around.

 

“I meant figuratively speaking,” Stiles elaborated from where he lay on the bed as the older man joined to two teenagers in the room.

 

Oliver grinned, “How do you feel Stiles...I haven’t been by since you woke up...I’m glad you’re doing better.”

 

“I’ll be even better once I can get out of here. I hate being in hospital,” Stiles replied. Scott reached out and took Stiles’ hand reassuringly, knowing that, deep down, Stiles hatred of being in hospital, and his fear of needles, was because of his mother’s sickness and subsequent death.

 

“Have either of you seen Felicity, I was just coming from Queen Consolidated and thought I would call in and see if she was here.”

 

“No...she was here this morning though...she said something about going to go do some stuff...but she didn’t give details.” Stiles told him. Scott watched as Oliver nodded in understanding.

 

“Okay. Thanks for that Stiles. Good luck with feeling better...you’ll be out of hospital in no time...but we might hold off on our next lacrosse practise for a bit...huh? You don’t want to push it too fast.”

 

Stiles nodded, “My dad said that you’ve been helping out...getting me a private room and giving the others somewhere to stay. Thanks...for everything. You didn’t have to do that.”

 

“Don’t worry about it. You’re Felicity’s family. It was the least I could do.”

 

Scott glanced at Stiles, and frowned when he saw a strange look cross Stiles’ face. It was a l;ook that Scott was very familiar with, the look that meant that Stiles’ keen mind was working very hard, making connections that most people wouldn’t even consider.

 

“You’re dating my sister, aren’t you?” Stiles asked in a deceptively calm voice.

 

“No,” Oliver replied, “I’m not...we’re just friends.”

 

“You want to date her though. I’m not blind...Oliver. You’re in love with her...and as cute as it is...the way you look at her when you’re together, your reputation isn’t all that great. If you end up hurting her, being shot by my dad is the least of your worries. Felicity is not somebody you want to piss off unless you want your assets frozen or seized by the government...and that’s not even taking into account what I could do to you...and I am more dangerous than I look. Consider yourself warned.”

 

Scott watched with barely concealed amusement as Oliver Queen shifted his feet uncomfortably, actually threatened by Stiles’ words. No-body back in Beacon Hills would ever believe that Stiles had sufficiently intimidated the Vigilante of Starling City.

 

“Thanks for that, Stiles. Hopefully I’ll see you again before you head back home. It was good to see you, Scott.” Oliver nodded politely.

 

“I hope so.” Stiles nodded in reply as Scott waved, and Oliver turned on his heel and began to walk out of the room.

 

“Oh, and Oliver...life is fragile and short...don’t stuff around too long. Tell her about how you feel before something happens and you never get the chance...because you’ll always regret it, and if it’s you that’s gone she’ll never get over it...and I don’t want to see my sister broken like my dad was when my mom died.”

 

Oliver turned, nodded to Stiles, and then left the room, leaving silence in his wake.

 

“Dude...you just gave the shovel talk to Oliver Queen...and gave him relationship advice.” Scott whispered furiously to Stiles, who had a thoughtful look on his face.

 

“Enough about that....how long exactly have you known that the Vigilante is Oliver Queen?”

 

Scott choked, “what? How do you know that...How do you know that I know that?”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes in a gesture that reminded Scott vividly of Derek. Obviously had been spending a lot of time together lately, and Scott wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about that..

 

“Werewolf smelling, dude. Who was the one that did all the research about werewolves when you got bitten? I know that you would be able to smell the fact that the vigilante and Oliver Queen are the same guy.”

 

“Alright...but how did you figure it out.”

 

“It didn’t take a genius. For one, the fact that the Vigilante was involved in my rescue is a big hint. The kidnapping of a teenager is not really what he gets involved in. He’s been more in the whole taking down white collar criminals and, you know, unethical business people, not kidnappings...especially when only one person is missing, they’re not actually missing for that long, in the grand scheme of things, and it’s not like there was a hostage video that was all over Starling City news.” Stiles pointed out, and Scott nodded in agreement. Stiles was making a valid point.

 

“On the other hand since Oliver and Felicity are friends...and obviously close enough for him to make sure her baby brother has a private hospital room and her brother’s friends and dad have a place to stay not far from the hospital, it’s not a massive jump to make to think that he might try to, I don’t know, rescue said brother.”

 

“Felicity has more than one friend though,” Scott pointed out, curious as to Stiles had figured out the Vigilante’s real identity.

 

“More than one friend with muscles like that?” Stiles asked, “Most of Felicity’s friends are from college, and not many people from MIT have shoulder muscles like that. You can’t tell when he’s got a suit on, or whatever, but I played lacrosse against Oliver Queen...and trust me...he is built...like...Derek Hale built. Besides, second point, Oliver Queen was found and went back to Starling City only days before the Vigilante first appeared. Coincidence...I think not.”

 

”You’ve done a lot of research into the Vigilante, haven’t you?”

 

“It offered a break from all the werewolf research I was doing,” Stiles shrugged, “As far as I am concerned the Vigilante is a superhero...and I thought that way before he saved my ass. Of course I researched him.”

 

“That still doesn’t make it obvious...Starling City is a big place.

 

“Which brings us to point number three. I am convinced that Felicity knows the Vigilante, and the Vigilante called me by name at the warehouse. While it is possible that she told him my name before he rescued me, he knew who I was...he knew what i looked like...so either Felicity had showed him a photo or whatever, which is possible...or he’d already met me...which Oliver had at that point. He didn’t think that Jackson or Isaac were Felicity’s younger brother...he knew it was me. It’s not like Felicity and I look anything alike.”

 

Scott nodded, but said nothing; too busy watching as Stiles happily explained his reasoning. It reminded him so much of Stiles the way he had been back in Beacon hills...before everything happened, and it relieved him that, even though Stiles had been put through hell in the last few months, the Stiles that Scott had grown up with was still in there.

 

“And, point number four... your reaction when I brought up the issue. I knew that you would know...you’ve met Oliver, and you’ve met the Vigilante, and dude...you told me the truth before you even opened your mouth. We’ve been friends for so long I can read you like a book.”

 

Scott stared at Stiles, a grin spreading over his face, “That was amazing. I’ll bet Lydia hasn’t even figured it out...or if she has it’s only because Jackson told her.”

 

Stiles beamed, “Elementary, my dear McCall,” he told Scott with a bad English accent, “now...let us discuss how awesome it is that my sister is, or if not at the moment, will be soon, dating an actual superhero.”

 

TW/A

 

“Stiles worked out who the Vigilante is,” Jackson overheard Scott saying to Derek and Isaac as he headed down the stairs, his jacket flung over his shoulder, and the keys to the hire car that Oliver had arranged in his pocket. Allison, Erica and Lydia were taking advantage of being in a big city and had headed off to do some shopping, and Stiles’ dad was at the hospital with Stiles. Boyd had gone to get some food for the boys’ dinner...but Jackson wasn’t going to be there. He was going to go and meet Roy instead.

 

“Hey Jackson,” Isaac said when he spotted Jackson, but Jackson just nodded in response, fiddling with the keys in his pocket with one hand, while the other hand combed through his already combed back hair.

 

“Why don’t you two get the kitchen ready for when Boyd gets back,” Derek suggested, and Isaac and Scott took the not so subtle hint and slipped away, leaving Jackson and Derek alone in the entryway. Jackson lowered his eyes, not knowing what to expect from his alpha, although it wasn’t the large hand resting reassuringly on his shoulder. Jackson felt his wolf perk up at its alpha’s touch, and he cast his eyes upwards, looking up at Derek.

 

“It will be fine,” Derek told him, “Your brother will accept you, and it will turn out well...and if it doesn’t, you have your pack...your family. You have Lydia, Danny, Isaac and Boyd. You have Erica and Scott...you have Stiles, Peter and Allison, and you have me. You aren’t alone...not anymore...regardless of what happens tonight.”

 

Jackson nodded, feeling oddly relieved by Derek’s reassurances, “Thanks,” he told Derek, and he meant it. Derek stepped back, his hand sliding off Jackson’s shoulder, and Jackson exhaled, before he headed out the front door and into the night.

 

It had been Roy who had initiated contact, calling Jackson’s mobile a couple of days after Jackson learned about his brother’s existence. Jackson was glad that Roy had waited those few days, as it had given him a chance to process the news and get his head around the idea that he had an older brother out there.

 

The conversation had been a little strained, neither brother knowing what exactly to say. In the end though, Jackson had suggested they meet for dinner at some point while Jackson was still in town. Roy had agreed.

 

Jackson drove towards the same diner that the Pack had eaten lunch at the day they had arrived in Starling City. Roy had known where it was, and Jackson knew how to get there, and that the food had tasted good. He parked in a car park about half a block from the diner and got out, tugging the sleeves of his jacket. At Lydia’s suggestion, Jackson had dressed casually, forgoing his usual brand name attire for something a little less presumptuous. Roy had grown up struggling to make ends meet, so Jackson didn’t want to rub it in his brother’s face that he had grown up in a wealthy home.

 

Jackson hunched his shoulders and walked to the diner, slipping through the door and casting his eyes around. He froze when he saw Riy. The photo that Jackson had seen didn’t do the similarities between them justice. It was almost like looking in a mirror, and Jackson had done quite a bit of that over the years. Swallowing nervously, although he would never admit to anyone how nervous he really was, Jackson approached the table his brother was sitting at.

 

“You’ve got to be Jackson,” Roy commented, looking up and down at Jackons, who nodded.

 

“Roy Harper, I’m guessing?”

 

“The one and only. Have a seat.”

 

Jackson slid into the seat opposite Roy, fully aware of the fact that Roy was curiously watching his every move.

 

“So...you’re dating Oliver Queen’s sister?” Jackson offered as a conversation started. Roy smiled, his gaze softening as he thought about his girlfriend. It reminded Jackson of Scott whenever Allison was around.

 

“Thea...yeah...she’s great. Do...do you have a girlfriend?”  


“Lydia...she’s...she’s pretty much perfect. Gorgeous...smart...determined.”

 

“She sounds like Thea. How long have you two been together?”

 

“Off and on for the last two years...pretty much since the start of high school.” Jackson replied, “How long have you and Thea been together?”

 

Roy shrugged, “a couple of months...and I’m not really sure we were dating a lot of that time. We were just hanging out together.

 

Jackson nodded in understanding, and they fell into an uneasy silence.

 

“Do...do you remember them...our real parents?” Jackson asked eventually. Roy shook his head.

 

“My first memories are of the Harpers...nothing before that. Are...are you happy with your parents. Are they...are they good...to you?”

 

Jackson hesitated, “They’ve never hurt me,” he told Roy after a short pause, knowing what his older brother was trying to find out, “They never put a finger on me. They thought the best way to keep me happy was to buy me whatever I wanted.”

 

“When all you really wanted was some time with them?”

 

“Something like that,” Jackson nodded, surprised with how honest he was being, both with Roy, and with himself.

 

“Thea said something similar once. So...your parents are rich?”

 

“Yeah,” Jackson nodded, “Not like the Queens are, but yeah, they’re wealthier than most. What...what were the Harpers like?”

 

A fond smile crossed Roy’s face, “They were good people. I never doubted that they loved me. I knew I was safe back then...that they would protect me. We didn’t have much money back then, but it didn’t matter. We had each other and it was always enough.”

 

Jackson bit his lip, “they sound like good people. I’m sorry that you lost them.”

 

“I still miss them, even though it’s been years,” Roy admitted, but then he shrugged, “Not that it’ll bring them back.”

 

Jackson cringed at the bitterness in his brother’s voice. At least he still had his adopted parents. No matter how much Jackson claimed that he didn’t love them, loosing them would still hurt.

 

Kids loosing their parents had always been a sensitive issue with Jackson, ever since he found out about his own parents. It was the one thing he never teased Stiles or Isaac about. Their respective dead mothers were topics that Jackson wouldn’t even consider bringing up to use against them.

 

Jackson remembered one occasion...not long after Stiles’ mother had died. They had been in the same class that year, along with Scott, Danny, and Lydia. Stiles had excused himself to go to the bathroom, and their teacher had let him go. Ten minutes later, the teacher, who had been new and didn’t know the animosity between Jackson and Stiles, had sent Jackson after Stiles to check on him, since Scott hadn’t finished his work, and Jackson had.  

Jackson had grumbled about it at the time, but he had gone to do the teachers’ bidding, walking into the boys’ bathroom and calling for Stiles. Nothing would have prepared Jackson for what he found, two older boys laughing at Stiles, who was on the ground, curled in the corner, in the middle of the panic attack, tears and snot running down his face. Jackson had seen red, his temper flaring at the two boys laughing at the smaller boy’s grief. He’d pushed them aside and gone to Stiles’ side, carefully pulling him upright and walking him out of the bathroom, his arm around Stiles’ waist supportively, and to the nurse’s office. Stiles was picked up and taken home, and didn’t come to school the next day. The next time Jackson and Stiles saw one another Stiles had nodded in thanks to Jackson, before they went on, as if the event had never happened.

 

That day had been the day that Jackson realised that, maybe, it was better that he never knew his real mother, so that he wouldn’t have to go through the same pain as Stiles and Isaac had gone through if she died. Roy hadn’t had that privilege. Sure, he didn’t remember their real mother, but he’d still gone through the pain of losing his mom, a woman who he had loved and obviously been loved by.

 

“So, other than flying half way across the country to save a kidnapped friend, what do you like doing?” Roy asked, breaking through Jackson’s thoughts.

 

“Lacrosse, hanging out with my friends and driving my car,” Jackson answered

 

“Your car...is it a Ferrari?” Roy asked with a smirk. Jackson smirked in reply.

 

“What...are you kidding? Ferraris handle like shit,” he joked, “I’ve got a Porsche.”

 

“Of course,” Roy chuckled, “man, I would kill to drive a Porsche or something like that. I get the feeling that Oliver’s not going to let me touch one of his cars.”

 

“You should come and visit...you can take mine for a spin...as long as you don’t scratch her.” Jackson offered

 

“Wait...are you seriously inviting me to come and visit you?” Roy asked in surprise, “You barely know me. Why would you want me to come and visit you when you’re back at home? ”

 

Jackson shrugged, “For the first time in my life there is someone I know who is related to me...by blood. I want to have the chance to get to know you. I want to introduce you to my friends and show you my home town. I’m not saying right now, because I’m sure you’ve got stuff to do, but at some point in the future.”

 

Roy snorted, “And how long would this visit be? Months? Years? I have a life here you know.”

 

“I’m not saying you don’t, Roy. Look, I don’t know if anyone ever explained this to you, but our real parents were rich...not as rich as my adopted parents, but not by much. They both had life insurance policies in their names. When they died, the life insurance...the money from when they sold the house and most of their stuff, it all got split down the middle, half for you and half for me. You’re old enough to access your half now. It all got invested, and from what I’ve heard, it’s lasted the financial crisis reasonably well. You don’t need to fight to survive anymore, Roy. Telling you that, after I found out about your life so far, was why I wanted to meet you here today. You’ve got a chance to get out of this mess and get out of the Glades. I’m sure Oliver Queen will be a lot happier about his sister spending the night when you’re not living in the slums surrounded by gang thugs and career criminals...no offence.”

 

Roy narrowed his eyes at Jackson, “You can be a bit of an insensitive prick, do you know that?”

 

Jackson smirked, thinking of Stiles, “Yeah, I’ve been told, numerous times.”

 

TW/A

 

Quentin Lance sat with a heavy groan onto his comfortable couch, a glass of whisky in his hand. It had been a long few days, or rather, a long few months, and his body was aching for a rest. Between the glades earthquake and his demotion, and the abduction of the Stilinski boy, followed by his subsequent rescue carried out by a group of high schoolers and their leader, and then the revelations that had followed, Quentin hadn’t really had a chance to stop and think.

 

He’d been able to brush the whole thing under the carpet, largely due to the fact that none of the people who had been killed had any family or friends that were concerned by the deaths, and because the Starling City police force was still struggling with dealing with the aftermath of the earthquake. Bodies were still being pulled from buildings, and looting and other criminal acts were a huge issue.

 

The members of Constiablo’s pack that survived Stiles’ rescue were all locked up in prison, although from what he’d heard from Stiles’ pack, he wasn’t sure how long that would last. Starling City’s prison hadn’t been built to contain werewolves after all. At least none of them had the capability of turning more people into werewolves, according to what he’d been told by Derek.

 

For the moment, though, it wasn’t his problem, and Quentin was determined to not dwell on the ones who were partially responsible for the kidnapping and torture of Stiles Stilinski. Instead, he thought about his own daughters.

 

Previously he had thought that Laurel, and Sara in particular, had been difficult to bring up, both of them engaging in risk taking behaviours that had once made Quentin Lance cringe, shudder and wish for the days when they were happiest having tea parties with their teddy bears on the living room floor.

 

Now though, he realised that, really (aside from Sara getting on the Queen’s Gambit, of course) he’d had it easy, and that John Stilinski had it far worse. Felicity was involved with the Vigilante, helping him on his vendetta against those who had wronged Starling City, putting herself at risk merely by being associated with him. She was also close to Oliver Queen, although Quentin wasn’t entirely sure how close they were, and that was a risky position at the best of times (he knew that more than most others, his daughter died because of Oliver Queen for crying out loud), and the Queen family were not very popular with the residents of Starling City at the moment. There would be a long list of people who would stop at nothing to hurt a member of the Queen family by kidnapping or killing somebody that was close to them. Felicity Smoake was one of the people who fit that description.

 

And then there was Stiles, a human member of a pack of werewolves, who spent his time outside of school protecting his friends and putting himself in danger to save the lives of those he cared about, and all at the age of 16 years old. The mere thought of one of his girls doing that sent fear coursing through Quentin’s heart. Add to the risk taking Felicity and Stiles were taking part in to the fact that John Stilinski had lost his wife, and probably would never really get over the loss, and the fact that he was the Sherriff of a town that was facing increasing crime rates thanks to the dispute between the werewolf pack, a family of hunters, and a kid with a pet lizard and severe mental issues, and Quentin wondered how John Stilinski was able to function. It was one of the reasons that Quentin had extended an offer of friendship and support to John, because he thought that the man needed somebody to talk to, and the fact that Quentin now knew about all of the goings on in Beacon Hills meant that he was in a good position to be John’s support, even after he returned to Beacon Hills. Having an adult, aside from Felicity, Scott McCall’s mother and potentially Allison Argent’s dad, to talk with could only be a good thing.

 

For the moment, however, Quentin pulled out his phone and thumbed through his contacts until he found Laurel’s number.

 

After everything that had happened he knew that he needed to simply hear the sound of his daughter’s voice. Everything else might had been turned upside down in his life lately, but at least Laurel was still there...and really, as far as Quentin was concerned, that was really all that mattered.


	23. Chapter 23

Allison was silent as she carefully packed her clothes into a bag, ready for her to take with her when she and her dad left for France from Starling City. Scott had generously offered to take the stuff she didn’t want to take to France back to Beacon Hills with him so that she didn’t have to worry about it.

 

Among the things that would be going back to Beacon Hills would be her bow. It would be difficult to explain a bow and a quiver of arrows in her suitcase to the French Customs officers, even with her dad’s arms trading licence, so Allison had made the choice to leave it behind. Besides...going to France was supposed to be an opportunity to get away from the hunting lifestyle, and leaving the bow, and her knives, behind seemed like a good start.

 

It actually surprised, and frightened, Allison how much the lifestyle of a hunter had encroached on her life. It hadn’t been so long ago when she’d been oblivious to the existence of Werewolves outside of horror stories and teenaged romance novels. Now she had tortured and captured some of her classmates, been involved in the kidnapping of another, and actually wanted to kill someone whose only crime had been wanting to save Scott’s life.

 

While she knew that a lot of her actions had been dictated by Gerard while she was still struggling to come to terms with her mother’s death, it still scared Allison how out of control she had become, how her grief had let her be ruled by another.

 

Allison knew that the blame didn’t fully rest on Gerard’s shoulders. She was at fault too. Derek, Erica, Boyd and Isaac were right to be mistrustful towards her, and it was only because Jackson hadn’t been directly hurt by her actions that he and Lydia weren’t avoiding her as well.

 

They had all worked together when Stiles had been missing, all of them knowing how important he was for the continued cooperation between the two packs, although Allison had a ulterior motive for helping as well Allison didn’t know what had happened to Stiles in the aftermath of the lacrosse match, but she had a sneaking suspicion who had been responsible for the beating Stiles had gone through, and she’d wanted to help rescue Stiles for her own selfish reason as well, hoping that it would lessen some of the guilt that weighed heavily in her heart.

 

Stiles hadn’t deserved any of what had happened to him, his only fault being curious about the half of a dead body that had been found in the woods. Now he’d been kidnapped three times and tortured twice, as well as being shot, paralysed, threatened, chased...the list went on and on in Allison’s head.

 

At least, for the moment, he was safe. In a few days he’d be out of hospital, and within a week, all going well, he’d be back in Beacon Hills, away from rival packs and insane alphas out to get revenge on the only surviving family of a teenaged girl that turned him down six years before.

 

Allison was drawn from her thoughts by a soft noise in the door way, and it was enough to make her startle. It was only because her weapons, already packed ready to be taken back to Beacon Hills, were on the other side of the room that she didn’t draw a knife as she spun around, only to find Boyd standing in the doorway, his usually stoic face difficult for Allison to read.

 

“Isaac asked me to tell you that dinner will be ready in about ten minutes.” Boyd told her, and Allison nodded,

 

“Thanks,” she gave a small smile, not sure how to interact with Boyd. They had rarely interacted, even before she’d helped catch him, and she didn’t know what he thought of her.

 

Boyd, however, lingered in the doorway, despite having delivered the message he had been sent with, and Allison bit her lip, not knowing what to say as a silence stretched out between them.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said finally, “I know it probably doesn’t mean anything to you...I can’t change what happened, no matter how much both of us wish we could, I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry for what I did to you guys. It was wrong, and I should never have even thought about it. What I did was inexcusable.”  

 

Boyd tilted his head to the side, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he took a step into the room as Allison sat on the edge of the bed she had been using.

 

“I don’t even know why I did those things,” Allison told Boyd, something about his calm expression encouraging her to open up to him, despite their troubled background, “I mean, I know I was listening to my grandfather, and not paying attention to how crazy it all sounded. I hate that I was that easy to manipulate. I should have known better, but I didn’t know what to do. I blamed Derek for what happened to my mom without hearing the full story. If he hadn’t done what he did Scott would be dead, and I don’t know what would have happened to everyone else.”

 

Allison sniffed, tears gathering in her eyes, “What happened to mom was my fault anyway. If I had done a better job of hiding the fact Scott and I were still together, or something like that, then she wouldn’t have gone after him and tried to kill him, and then Derek wouldn’t have needed to go anywhere near her.” Allison cried, tears rolling down her face. She jumped when she felt a large hand rest on her shoulder, looking up at Boyd, who had crossed over to her and now had a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

 

“It wasn’t your fault, none of it was,” he told her simply. Allison sobbed once again, hating the tears that were rolling down her face, the tears she couldn’t stop. It made her look weak, and ever since she’d found out the truth about werewolves Allison had been fighting to prove that she wasn’t weak, that she was strong and that she could look after herself.

 

Boyd slowly and cautiously lowered himself onto the bed beside Allison, carefully putting his arm around her, and Allison unconsciously leaned against his broad chest, revelling in the reassuring heat that he put off, just like Scott.

 

“You’re strong; you’re one of the strongest people I know. Crying...grieving for your mother, wishing it could be different, it doesn’t make you weak,” Boyd said so softly that Allison almost missed it, “Your grandfather manipulated you and used you to do his dirty work. He is the one I blame, not you.”

 

Allison frowned at how perceptive he was, or rather, how transparent she evidently was being, “How do you know when to say the right thing?” she asked with a tearful smile.    

 

“I listen,” Boyd replied with a shrug and a smile.

 

TW/A

 

Diggle finished wiping sweat from his face, neck and chest, draping his towel around his neck and glanced across to where Oliver and Felicity were standing. Felicity had only just arrived at the air, her handbag still in her hand and her light jacket still on her shoulders.

 

Stiles had forwarded all of his information on the supernatural, including all of the research he had gathered since he’d found out the truth, to Felicity, and now she was busily transferring all of the information onto her computers in the lair from her tablet, chattering away to Oliver about what information the research offered, both of them completely oblivious to Diggle presence, ignoring the fact that, less than ten minutes beforehand Oliver had been sparring with him.

 

From a distance, Diggle observed his teammates. He’d always thought that Oliver and Felicity would make a good couple, not that he ever said anything about it to them. It was obvious to Diggle in the way that Oliver and Felicity looked at one another, how, when he walked into a room, Felicity was almost always the first one Oliver’s eyes saught out (the only exception being if Thea was there).

 

Oliver’s interest in Felicity had once concerned Diggle, knowing Oliver’s reputation before his time on the island, but over time Diggle had realised how genuine and deep Oliver’s feelings for the IT specialist went. Felicity had told him about werewolves and their anchors, and Diggle believed that Felicity was Oliver’s anchor, the one thing that kept him from swallowed by the darkness that he risked being consumed by.

 

Felicity too was obviously interested in Oliver romantically, as far as Diggle was concerned, but Felicity wasn’t the kind of person who would let herself be swept up like a damsel in distress. She had a fire deep in her soul, and it showed in her resilience, determination and inner strength. After what Diggle had been told by Felicity’s stepfather, it sounded very much like a lot of that had been inherited from her mother.

 

Still, despite knowing how deeply Oliver and Felicity cared about one another, and how much Felicity believed in keeping Starling City safe, Diggle was a little surprised to see her at the lair. Stiles had been released from hospital the previous day, and would be heading back home to Beacon Hills within a week, along with his dad and his friends, and Diggle had thought that Felicity would want to spend as much time with her family as possible. Apparently that wasn’t the case, since she was down in the lair.

 

“I didn’t expect to see you down here today?’ Diggle said with a smile, approaching Oliver and Felicity. Felicity smiled.

 

“They pumped Stiles with pain meds before he was discharged, so he’s pretty out of it. John at the pack are with him though. I’m not going to be here for long, I just wanted to give you guys this. I mean, from what Derek’s told us we shouldn’t have any problems, without an alpha the surviving members of Constiablo’s pack are going to find it tough to keep existing as a pack. Chances are they’ll all leave and go looking for other Alphas that are willing to take them in. We probably won’t have to do anything with this info, but if something does come up, we’ll at least already know the basics. John told me that Allison’s dad was going to give Officer Lance some ammo with wolfsbane when he gets to town tomorrow, so we’ll be able to use that too if there is an issue.”

 

John nodded, “We’re all set, or as set as we possibly can be, if we face a situation like that again.”

 

“I hope not,” Felicity shuddered, “I mean, even leaving out Stiles being involved, the idea of werewolves kind of freaks me out, and i still can’t believe that I never realised Laura was one.”

 

“Speaking of people figuring things out,” Oliver began with a smile, “Apparently Stiles figured out who the Vigilante is,”

 

“What? How did he do that? How do you know that he did that?”

 

“I don’t know how, but I got a message from Scott McCall earlier today telling me that Stiles had figured out who the Vigilante was.”

 

“Why didn’t he say anything to me? I was talking to him earlier; he wanted to borrow my phone, since he said that his battery was dead and he wanted to text his mom and tell her that Stiles was out of hospital and doing okay. That was probably when he got your number, now I think about it.”

 

“Yeah, I did wonder how he got my number,” Oliver conceded thoughtfully, “And maybe they thought that you didn’t know, or Stiles doesn’t want you to know that he knows.”

 

“Probably,” Felicity shrugged, “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, really. Despite the ADHD and everything Stiles is very smart, and he’s very observant. Stiles has always been like John like that, being able to notice things that everyone else misses. It’s why John is so good at his job.”  

 

Diggle chuckled, having had the exact same thought. Stiles would be well suited to police work, if he wanted to get into that profession, but with a mind as keen as Stiles’, he had many employment opportunities and options before him, all of them would suit him well.

 

Assuming, of course, that Stiles survived to graduate high school, which considering what he was involved in, wasn’t a given. As much as it hurt Diggle to think about it, Stiles’ chances of surviving long enough to finish high school weren’t great. He’d already come very close to death after he had been shot, and that was discounting all of the other times he could have been killed, and he hadn’t been involved in his current lifestyle very long. He was still two years away from graduation, and Diggle knew how much could change in two long years.

 

Still, Diggle found himself thinking as he watched Felicity and Oliver interact, there was a long list of people that would do anything they could to keep Stiles alive. His father, for one, Felicity, Oliver and Diggle himself too, despite the distance between Starling City and Beacon Hills. Then there was the pack, who had all already proved their loyalty to Stiles by rescuing him from the Starling City pack. Between them all, Diggle hoped, Stiles would be safe.

 

More importantly, Diggle hoped that all of Stiles friends had a break, and soon. It sounded like they’d been constantly fighting for survival ever since Laura Hale had died, and honestly, they needed a break, a moment to rest, regroup, and to actually be teenagers for a bit.

 

Diggle remembered watching the group of teenagers at the hospital the night Stiles was brought in. They had all reminded him of men and women that he had formally served with, worn down and broken with battle fatigue and PTSD. The haunted looks in the eyes of the teenagers had no right to be there, in Diggle’s opinion.

 

Oliver had agreed with Diggle, the one time that Diggle had brought it up, one time when it had just been the two of them in the lair. The pack looked like they’d just come out of some sort of hellish war zone overseas, not a small town in northern California.

 

Maybe the pack’s junior year of high school would be easier.

 

TW/A

 

John smiled at Felicity as he led her up the steps to the house he and the pack were sharing, both of them weighed down by bags of take out for the hungry pack. As good as it had been to catch up with Felicity, John was looking forward to getting Stiles back to Beacon Hills. There was a sense of security John had in his own town that was gone in Starling City, a feeling of being in control that he lost in such a large city.

 

While it was true that Beacon Hills had been a more dangerous place of late, and John knew that he wouldn’t let himself rest until he’d gone through all of the cold cases he had in storage at the sheriff’s department to see if any of them could be explained by the supernatural world Stiles, Scott and their friends had been thrown into.

 

It wasn’t only the security that Beacon Hills offered that had John itching to go home. He wanted to see Melissa and to talk to her about what had happened. Ever since Claudia had died Melissa had been his closest friend, the one he went to when he was worried about Felicity or Stiles, when he needed advice, or he just needed someone to talk to.

 

Now, he and Melissa were in similar positions, both of them trying to understand and come to terms with the face that Scott, sweet, loveable, asthmatic Scott, was a werewolf, and Stiles was neck deep in Werewolf business and was considered to be a human member of a werewolf pack, whatever that meant. She hadn’t known about it all for much longer than he had, so now, at least, they could try and cope together.

 

If Chris Argent ever came back to Beacon Hills (and after everything that had happened, John wouldn’t be surprised if he never saw Chris Argent again) John was going to approach him and try to learn as much as he could from the retired hunter as possible about the lifestyle that Stiles had put himself in. The whole incident in Starling City had made John painfully aware of how unable he was to protect Stiles from his current lifestyle, and Chris Argent, with his hunters weapons and wofsbane bullets was a way that John, and Melissa too if she felt so inclined, could learn how to protect their children.

 

John, however, was wise enough to know that he wouldn’t always be there to protect Stiles. It was why, once Stiles was fully recovered, John was going to take him to a shooting range, regardless of what Chris Argent was doing with his wolfsbane bullets and training John, and teaching his son how to handle, and if needed use, a gun. A lot of the Sherriff’s in the surrounding counties had taught their children how to use a gun, but John had never felt comfortable with the idea of Stiles, accident prone and unable to focus for long periods of time, with a gun, and if John was honest, Stiles had never shown much interest in learning how to shoot anyway. If the events in Beacon Hills from Laura Hale’s murder and leading up to Stiles’ ill fated vacation to Starling City was anything to go by, Stiles being able to use a gun, if he had to in order to protect himself or one of the others, would be a good idea.           

 

At least it wouldn’t be long before they were all back in Beacon Hills. In fact, this would be the last night they would all be in Starling City. In the morning Allison’s father would arrive in town, delivering a supply of wolfs bane bullets to Quentin Lance, as well as some wolfs bane seeds for Lance to pass on to the Vigilante so that the Vigilante could grow some of the plants and make an oil to put on his arrowheads, should there ever be a werewolf problem in Starling City again.

 

Chris Argent wouldn’t be in town long, however, with he and Allison heading off to France on a vacation to get away from everything that had happened in Beacon Hills. Not long after their flight left, Derek, Scott, Jackson, Erica, Boyd, Lydia and Isaac would be heading back to Beacon Hills, using Jackson’s father’s plane. The full moon was approaching once again, and understandably, Derek wanted his pack, particularly Erica, Boyd and Jackson, who didn’t have as much control, to be settled back in the familiar environment by then. Isaac would help Derek get the others settled, and Scott needed to start summer school, if he wanted to start his junior year with the rest of his friends.

 

John and Stiles were going back to Beacon Hills in a few more days, once Stiles had recovered and healed a little more. Oliver had offered John the use of a private plane for the flight, and John had reluctantly accepted, disliking the fact that he was putting himself in Oliver’s debt, but at the same time knowing that a private plane would be much more comfortable for Stiles.

 

Oliver had shrugged away John’s thanks, explaining that he needed to go down to Los Angeles for business reasons anyway, so stopping at the small air strip a couple of miles outside of Beacon County wasn’t much out of the way, although John was reasonably sure that Oliver’s ‘business’ in Los Angeles could have easily been done via a conference call.

 

Pushing his thoughts about the group from Beacon Hills and their departure from Starling City aside, John unlocked and opened the door, letting himself and Felicity into the house, before locking the door securely again. He walked to the kitchen, setting the bags on the dining room table, surprised that none of the werewolves had appeared. Felicity too was looking around curiously. Usually, at the first scent of food the table was surrounded by hungry werewolves. Usually they’d be waiting at the door, receiving John of his bags and hurrying them into the kitchen before John could even say thanks.

 

John could hear the TV in the living room playing, so he headed in that direction, stopping suddenly in the doorway, taking in the sight in front of him.

 

Somebody had pushed the couch back against the wall furthest from the TV and pulled the cushions off it. The floor was lines with cushions, mattresses that had obviously been brought down from the upstairs bedrooms, and blankets and pillows were everywhere.

 

On the mattresses, in the middle of it all, was the pack. Derek was stretched out on his back, looking up at John and Felicity with a strange, conflicted look on his face. Despite not knowing the younger man very well, John could read the look easily. Derek was worried that he would get in trouble for being caught in the middle of what could only be described as a puppy pile, but at the same time, he was obviously happy, perhaps happier than he had been in six long years, finally surrounded by a pack he belonged to.

 

John tore his eyes from Derek, taking in the rest of the pack. Stiles was lying between Derek and Scott, his head resting on Derek’s shoulder, with Scott’s arm draped protectively over him. Scott face was buried in Stiles’ hair, and Stiles hair was damp from Scott’s drool. Both of the teenagers were sound asleep.

 

On Derek’s other side, Isaac was snuggled into his alpha, looking happier and more relaxed than John had ever seen him, a smile on the teenagers face as he had his head resting on Derek’s spare shoulder, his arm draped over Derek’s chest, his hand resting on Stiles’ side. Isaac was still awake, although he looked very close to drifting off to sleep.

 

Erica and Boyd were wrapped around one another on Isaac’s other side, although they were both touching their younger pack mate. Like Derek, they were both awake, but were ignoring John and Felicity, instead watching the film up on the TV screen, the Avengers, naturally. Obviously Stiles had gotten to pick the movie, before he’d fallen asleep.

 

Jackson was lying on his back, propped up against a small pile of pillows and cushions beside Scott, although he seemed oblivious to the fact that he was so close to his former enemy. Lydia was sitting on Jackson’s lap, his arms around her, and her head resting against his chest as they too watched the movie. Even Jackson looked relaxed as he idly combed his fingers through Lydia’s long strawberry blonde hair.

 

Allison was the only one not there, but then John heard the downstairs toilet flush, before a tap ran for a minute, before shutting off and the bathroom door creaked open, Allison joining him and Felicity in the doorway, obviously hesitating about joining the others on the floor..

 

John didn’t dare say anything, knowing that things had been strained between Allison and the werewolves recently. Lydia looked up at her friend and opened her mouth to say something, but then snapped it shut, both she and Jackson looking across at Derek, Erica and Boyd. Erica and Boyd were looking at Derek, whose gaze had shifted from John and Felicity across to Allison, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the potential threat to his pack. It was then that John realised, really realised, the sort of responsibility Derek had on his shoulders. He was responsible for the safety of the teenagers sprawled out on the floor around him. He had to protect them, both from external treats, and from their own stubbornness and stupidity. The teenagers had, for the most part, accepted him as their leader, and would in the future, defer to his authority most of the time.

 

For some of the teens, Derek would become a pseudo parent...Isaac in particular, since John knew that Isaac was living with him in Beacon Hills. For the others, the ones with better relationships with their parents, Boyd, Erica, Scott and maybe Lydia, Derek would become a sort of older brother figure for them to look up to.        

 

Of course, John knew just as well as most parents, how hard it was to raise teenagers, with the rampant hormones and the desire to rebel. There would be days when the teens would argue against Derek and fight over everything, and there would be days when Derek wouldn’t be able to get away from them. It was a lot of responsibility for anyone to take on, and Derek was only 22 years old. John knew Derek was going to need all the help he could get, and maybe John could give a little support in that area, when it was needed.

 

It looked, however, like this was one thing that Derek didn’t need John’s assistance in, because, after giving Allison a lengthy look, Derek gave the smallest of nods and went back to watching John and Felicity. Beside him, John felt Allison relax slightly as she moved into the room, Jackson and Lydia inching over a little so Allison could settle down beside Scott, where she belonged. She lay down beside him, and Scott, sensing her presence shifted so that his arm went around her in a gentle hug, and his legs tangled up with hers. Allison leaned into the embrace, her arms going around him, her face buried in his neck.

 

Scott turned his head, nosing Allison’s hair and pressing a gentle, sleepy kiss to the top of her head, before he relaxed and went back to sleep, but John held Derek’s gaze, before he gave a single, approving nod to the young alpha. Derek held his gaze for a moment, before he looked away, glancing at the TV screen, before he shot a protective glance down at Stiles, his grip on the teenager tightening. John watched, his eyebrow threatening to retreat into his hairline as Stiles let out a soft noise and snuggled further into Derek’s chest, his fingers gripping Derek’s shirt tightly.

 

Derek stiffened at Stiles’ gesture, glancing back up at John, an almost fearful look on his face, although his grip on Stiles’ didn’t loosen, and if possible became even tighter. This time it was John holding Derek’s gaze, assessing the younger man, using the knowledge he’d gained through is work over the years to gauge the other man’s thoughts.

 

John remembered vividly how attentive Derek had been towards Stiles while he’d been in hospital, how obviously emotionally drained the Alpha had been when Stiles’ survival hadn’t been guaranteed. Derek hadn’t acted like a friend, or even a best friend, but instead, he’d been acting like there was more between him and Stiles than just being pack mates. He doubted that it was anything official, yet, but Derek obviously cared about Stiles, and Stiles had thrown himself in front of a bullet for Derek, so obviously the feeling was reciprocated.

 

Remembering what he’d been told about werewolf hearing, John didn’t bother to raise his voice as he levelled his most intimidating look at Derek.

 

“If he ends up hurt, I will not hesitate to shoot you with so many wolfsbane bullets you won’t know what hit you, and that’s just me. Who knows what sort of pain Felicity and the Vigilante will want to inflict, and don’t forget Scott and his mom. Melissa considers Stiles to be her second son, and i know for a fact she’s very protective of her boys, I want you around for dinner one night a week, bring Isaac if you want, since I know he’s living with you. Also, no sex until Stiles is eighteen, you got it? I don’t want Stiles’ door closed while you’re visiting, and use the front door. No more of this sneaking in through the window business.”

 

Derek cringed and nodded, before directing his attention back on Stiles, and John huffed and backed out of the room, Felicity on his heels. He heard Erica and Jackson’s muffled laughter, and Derek’s warning growl, and cringed, forgetting that the other teenagers, except for Stiles and Lydia, were all also werewolves and would have been able to hear him and his warning. Scott and Issac had probably missed it, since they’d both been practically asleep, but Erica, Jackson and Boyd had all been wide awake.

 

“I hope I don’t live to regret that,” John said to Felicity when they reached the kitchen, putting the food in the oven to keep warm until the pack were ready for it. In response, Felicity wrapped her arms around him.

 

“Mom would be proud,” she told him, her voice filled with honesty. John sighed and nodded.

 

“I hope so, Felicity, I hope so.”


	24. Chapter 24

Oliver skipped the bottom few steps leading down into his basement lair, his patrol for the night finished. It had been a quiet night, things finally having settled down since the glades earthquake. The whole week had been reasonably quiet, and if he was honest with himself, Oliver was grateful for the rest. It had been a busy year, especially the last few months.

 

During his patrol Quentin Lance had called him, wanting to discuss the drop in crime rate, pondering if the fact that there now wasn’t a werewolf pack in residence in Starling city had anything to do with it. The surviving members of Constiablo’s pack had all gone their own ways (almost all of them having tried to escape Iron Heights the first full moon after their capture, with quite a few being shot and killed during their attempted escape.) Still, Oliver had kept close to Felicity, Stiles and their dad after the full moon night, up until the day that Stiles and John went back to Beacon Hills, where they could be protected by the rest of the pack, just in case any of the betas got the idea to come after Stiles and his family.    

 

Since Stiles and John had left Starling City, Oliver had looked for any obvious signs of werewolf activity, but he hadn’t seen anything, although he was no expert on werewolves, and didn’t exactly know what he was looking for. Nothing suspicious had occurred, though, so he guessed that it was a good sign that, for the moment, Starling City was werewolf free.

 

The basement was quiet. Diggle was quietly examining their first aid supplies, a notepad in front of him so he could write down anything they needed. Oliver watched him for a moment, until Diggle raised his eyes up to him, and pressed his finger to his lips, pointing at the couch that Oliver had tucked into a corner of the room.

 

Felicity was stretched out on the couch, obviously sound asleep. The last few weeks had been especially hard on her, and now that the crisis appeared to be over, Felicity’s body had demanded that she try and catch up on the lost hours of sleep. It wasn’t the first time Felicity had crashed on the couch in the basement, and Oliver didn’t blame her. He knew that, even before Stiles had come to Starling City, she hadn’t been sleeping well, and things had only gotten worse for her after her brother was kidnapped, tortured, and shot. Felicity had been running purely off adrenalin and a couple of three or four hour long naps for over a month, and Oliver was a little surprised that she hadn’t succumbed to exhaustion before now.

 

Still, if Oliver had learned anything in the last few months, it had been to not underestimate Felicity, or members of her family. Oliver was quiet as he out his hood and his bow and quiver of arrows away, before he approached the couch and picked up the throw rug that was draped over the pack of it, spreading it instead over Felicity. It was still summer, and the night was warm, but the underground basement was protected from the heat of the day, although as a result it became very cool in the nights.

 

Felicity stirred when Oliver draped the blanket over her, mumbling something that Oliver didn’t quite hear and shifting beneath the blankets, before she dozed off again. Oliver gently brushed Felicity’s hair back from her face with a soft smile on his face, before he turned and headed over to Diggle.

 

“How long has she been asleep for?” Oliver asked quietly. Diggle glanced at his watch.

 

“Not long, about twenty minutes or so, she looked pretty wiped out though. Stiles called her while you were gone.”

 

“How’s he doing?” Oliver asked, thinking of the teenager, somebody else he had underestimated. He’d been fairly certain that the teenager would have died from his injuries, but he’d been wrong, Stiles had fought back, and looked like he was, physically, going to make a full recovery.

 

“He’s okay,” Diggle smiled, “he was annoyed because his dad, Scott’s mom and Derek wouldn’t let him go swimming with the others; he had to sit and watch.”

 

“Sounds like he’s almost back to normal, and that they’ve been able to have a bit of a break from things,” Oliver offered.

 

“They needed it. I swear, all of those kids are going to end up with PTSD, if they don’t have it already,” John sighed sadly, “I told Felicity that it seemed like Stiles was going well physically, and she told me that her stepdad called her earlier. Stiles isn’t sleeping through the night, and Scott’s spent every night ever since Stiles got back at their house, in case Stiles has a nightmare, which he has been doing every night. Poor kid wakes up screaming most of the time.”

 

“It’ll take time,” Oliver reasoned, “You know that.”

 

Diggle nodded and sighed, going back to his checking of the first aid supplies. Oliver himself knew how long it might take. He himself still woke up yelling from a nightmare about the island sometimes, or more recently about the quake, but he was sleeping better than he had been on the island, and Oliver considered that to be an improvement.

 

In part, Oliver knew that those he was closest to, Felicity and Diggle, and Thea, had played a significant role in helping him recover. Felicity was, most of the time, the only person he had ever met that saw him as the person he was, who saw through his mask and the hood and the irresponsible playboy act and saw the man he was beneath. She was the one person that he really trusted, that he felt he could be himself with. Ever since he’d come back from the island, she’d been the only one who had been able to bring him back into the light, and the only one who’d been able to chase away his demons when they tried to drag him back into the darkness. She was his anchor, the light in the dark, the flickering candle that refused to go out, no matter what happened, no matter how he wronged her.

 

The thing was, he couldn’t risk letting how he felt about Felicity develop into anything more, no matter how much he might wish it could. It was too dangerous; he had too many enemies, both as Oliver Queen, and as the Vigilante. None of them would think anything of hurting Felicity in order to get to him. For a long time Oliver had been convinced that his connection to Felicity had been the reason Stiles had been taken, up until he’d learned of what Stiles had been involved with back in Beacon Hills.

 

Stiles’ kidnapping had only highlighted, to Oliver how defenceless the everyday citizens of the world were. Felicity was just as vulnerable as Stiles, and it had been a bullet, not a werewolf claw, that had almost ended the teenager’s life. Next time (and Oliver had no doubt that he and his team would be thrust into another dangerous situation soon), it could be Felicity that was bleeding out on the ground.

 

The very thought of loosing Felicity was enough to make Oliver wish that he had died with Sara when the Queen’s Gambit went down, his duty to Starling City be damned.

 

TW/A

 

Derek leaned casually against one of the new support columns holding up the roof covering the wrap around veranda that encircled the newly rebuilt Hale house, watching as Scott, Jackson, Isaac, Erica and Boyd wrestled in the grass in front of the building.

 

Lydia and Danny were perched on the bench swing that Derek had put up, both of them immersed in books that Stiles had found useful when he was searching for information about the supernatural. They weren’t looking for anything in particular, just reading information that Stiles had already committed to memory

 

Stiles himself was sitting at Derek’s feet, on the front steps of the house, fiddling with a pen. He had been looking over an essay that Scott had written for summer school, checking for any obvious spelling and grammar mistakes, and just generally making sure what Scott had written actually made sense. There weren’t many marking on the essay, so Derek guessed that Stiles hadn’t found too much to pick up on.

 

Internally, Derek was thankful that Scott had brought his essay with him for Stiles to check over. It had given the teenager something to do while the others trained and ran around together. Stiles still wasn’t allowed to do sport of any kind, according to both his doctors in Starling City and Beacon Hills. It would be another week or so before Stiles would be able to drive his beloved Jeep again, much to Stiles’ disgust.

 

Today it had been the Sherriff who had dropped Stiles off at Derek’s house with a gentle hug and a reminder to stay safe, that he wasn’t fully healed yet. The reminder had not only been directed at Stiles, but Scott and Derek as well, a warning that Stiles still needed to be treated gently.  

        

Melissa was the same whenever she dropped Scott and Stiles off, directly addressing the pack when she told them all to be gentle with Stiles, much to Stiles’ embarrassment. Jackson had laughed, but they had all taken heed of the request. Stiles was treated with the utmost care, as if he might shatter at the slightest knock or accidental bump.

 

Derek could tell being treated like he was so fragile was getting to Stiles. While he hadn’t ever trained with the werewolves, aside from lacrosse, he’d never been coddled by them either. Erica had even knocked him out and dumped him in a dumpster before. Stiles simply wasn’t used to the special treatment, and he didn’t like it.

 

Inhaling, Derek could smell how bored, and somewhat lonely, Stiles felt, the boy’s emotions seeping out thorough his pores and altering his natural scent. It wasn’t the first time Derek had smelled how lonely Stiles felt when he wasn’t able to be involved with the rest of the others. It had only been a few days since the pack had all gone out to the lake in the middle of the forest for a swim. Stiles, naturally, hadn’t been allowed to go into the water because he still had his stiches, so he had watched from the shoreline, joined by whichever members of the pack were having a break from swimming.

 

Honestly, it was surprising Stiles had lasted so long without feeling excluded from the pack. Helping rebuild the house had been a good distraction. Derek and the others had already started working on rebuilding and renovating the Hale house when Stiles had been kidnapped, and all of the plans had been put on hold until their return.

 

By the time Stiles had recovered enough for him to come out to see how things were going, the majority of the difficult jobs that required werewolf strength had been done, leaving tasks that either required qualified tradespeople, like plumbers and electricians, or which they could all do, like painting the interior walls and hanging curtains.

 

It had taken over a week, with the entire pack helping, to paint the walls and ceilings of the new house, and the day spent out at the lake in the woods had actually happened because they had to leave all of the paint to dry for over 24 hours. Now though, it was all done, the windows and doors all wide open to give the house a chance to air out before evening set in. Once the carpets and wooden floorboards were laid, the house would be finished. The only reason Derek hadn’t done the floor covering before now was because he’d wanted the pack to be involved, and knowing his pack, there was bound to be a lot of mess.

 

As much fun as painting Derek’s house had been for the pack, Derek had been right. It had been a very messy experience, although he couldn’t bring himself to care. The pack had all been genuinely happy, for the first time ever. Jackson had whined a little at first, but even he’d been quietly enjoying the activity and spending time with his new pack. Even Scott, who had been quiet and withdrawn when Stiles wasn’t there, came out of his shell, chatting and joking with the other betas, building up pack ties and connections and solidifying his position as Derek’s second.

 

Stiles appeared to have revelled in being useful after weeks spent in bed, both in Beacon Hills and Starling City, his laughter and ceaseless chatter filling the house with noise. Derek knew, from the worried looks Scott would send towards Stiles, and from the occasional surge of panic or fear in the teenager’s scent, that Stiles hadn’t fully gotten over what had happened in Starling City, but he was improving, with the support of the pack.

 

For the first time since the fire, Derek felt as though he really belonged to a pack. When it was just him and Laura they had been a pack, but it had been different, since it had just been the two of them, against the world. Now, the Hale pack numbered almost as large as it did before the fire. There had been fifteen in the pack back then, both werewolf and human. Now, not counting Allison, Chris, Melissa or John, Derek had a definite pack of nine, plus Peter, if he felt inclined to join and Derek decided to let him, although he hadn’t quite decided what he was going to do about his uncle yet. Derek had been too worried about dealing with Gerard and Jackson, rebuilding his family’s home for his pack, rebuilding his ties with Erica and Boyd, and then finding and saving Stiles to worry about dealing with Peter and his smug grin.

 

Shifting his weight, Derek glanced away from his wrestling betas, where Scott had just pinned Jackson face down in the dirt, down at Stiles, who was grinning at his best friend. Derek sat down on the step beside Stiles, making sure to keep a little distance between them. John might have accepted the idea of Derek and Stiles being together, but Derek hadn’t felt the time was right to instigate anything. Stiles was still getting over significant trauma after all.

 

“Scott looks happy,” Stiles commented as Scott let Jackson up and began gesturing excitedly to Isaac.

 

Derek nodded in agreement, “They all do.”

 

“You’ve done a good job, Derek. Yeah, you kind of sucked as an alpha at first, but I think you’ve got the hang of it now.” Sties told Derek. Derek fought the urge to grin, knowing that Stiles was right.

 

“I’m glad you think so. Are you happy?”

 

Stiles shrugged, “I’m alive,” he told Derek, “and I suppose that should be enough, but I don’t like being stuck on the sidelines so much. I mean, I’m not the most active of people, but I’ve so much time using my laptop since I got back I think I’m getting carpal tunnel in my wrist. I love my laptop, don’t get me wrong, but...but I hate being so restricted by what I can do. I’m not even allowed to drive my jeep anywhere.”

 

Has helping with the house helped?” Derek asked.

 

“Yeah, it was fun. I think I was at the point that cleaning out the cages at Deaton’s would have been good, as long as I was out of the house, but I actually really enjoyed it. It was good spending time together when our lives aren’t in danger, for a change.”

 

“It’s part of being a pack,” Derek reasoned, remembering a lesson his mother had once told him, what seemed like eons ago, “Yes, I’ve been telling them that being a pack means being there when it’s all gone to hell, watching each other’s backs and looking after one another and protecting the pack from threats, but it’s also about spending time together when there isn’t a threat. It’s about maintaining the pack bonds; it’s about unity and becoming a sort of family. You laugh together, you eat together, you celebrate together, and you love together.”

 

“You seriously expect Jackson and Scott to get along like they’re brothers?” Stiles asked as Jackson launched himself at Scott and their fight resumed, this time with Jackson looking like he would be the victor.

 

Derek grinned, quirking his eyebrow thoughtfully.

 

“Well...brothers do tend to fight a lot...they’re not all as close as you and Scott are.”

 

Stiles laughed, his eyes lighting up in amusement, and Derek’s smile grew even more at seeing Stiles so happy. Yes, he had a long way to go, but Derek and the pack would be there for him.

 

Stiles would be his usual, annoying, loud self soon enough

 

And Derek couldn’t wait.

TW/A

 

Felicity hid her smile behind her hand as she watched Oliver on the salmon ladder, his shirt draped over the back of a vacant chair. Diggle was attending one of his nephew’s baseball matches, and other than the clanging of the salmon ladder bar, the lair was quiet.

 

It was the weekend, and she had taken advantage of not having to head into Queen Consolidated to update and install the software of the computers in the basement. Oliver was using his time to work out, so, while the computers were updating, Felicity had figured she would just sit back and enjoy the view of Oliver’s bare chest. She could see his muscles working beneath his skin, beneath the scars that covered a considerable amount of the skin there.

 

Felicity had always enjoyed watching Oliver work out, and the salmon ladder was her favourite piece of his equipment. Her desk was well positioned to allow her to watch without being obvious.

 

“God, I like watching you do that,” Felicity said to herself dreamily.

 

“I’m glad you approve,” Oliver grunted, swinging up another notch. Felicity gulped

 

“I said that aloud, didn’t I?”

 

“Yeah, you did,” Oliver told her, grunting as he swung the bar up to the topmost notch, before he started to descend. Felicity gulped, her cheeks colouring in embarrassment at being caught ogling Oliver’s bare chest.

 

Oliver flipped off the bar, landing in a crouch on the ground, before he straitened to his full height and reached for his towel, wiping his sweaty arms, hands, chest and shoulders, before drying off his hair.

 

“I was just, er, watching you while the updates were installing,” Felicity explained, carefully avoiding looking at Oliver’s bare chest by focusing on his face. In response Oliver lifted an eyebrow, and Felicity swallowed.

 

“Did I ever thank you, for what you did for Stiles and John and Stiles’ friends,” Felicity hastily said, trying to change the subject, turning in her chair to check how much longer the computers had to go. She missed the smile that flickered across Oliver’s face at the attempt.

 

“Yes, you did. Its okay, Felicity, it was the least I could do.”

 

“I mean, you didn’t have to though, officially we barely know each other, and it wasn’t like Stiles’ abduction had anything to do with this,” Felicity gestured at the basement, “As far as the world out there knows, I’m just a Queen Consolidated employee, and you’re, well, Oliver Queen. The only connection is that I work for your company.” Felicity babbled.

 

“You’re my friend, Felicity, one of my closest friends” Oliver told her, his expression serious, “Of course I was going to help look after your brother, and make sure that you family and his friends had somewhere to stay so they could be close to him and look after him too.”

 

“I know, and you’re one of my closest friends too. You and Diggle are my best friends. You guys have given me something else to focus on when I was grieving over Laura and worrying about Walter, and then you turn around and help look after my brother. You’re a good person Oliver, perhaps the best person I’ve ever met.” Felicity replied.

 

“There would be a lot of people who would disagree with you,” Oliver pointed out.

 

“Well, they don’t know you...the real you that came back from the island, and not the mask you put on for everyone else,” Felicity smiled, “I see what you’re like when you’re not being the vigilante, and you’re not trying to hide how much you’ve changed from the world, and that man, the man that I see, he is a good man.

 

“How do you know that?” Oliver asked, and Felicity’s breathing caught in her throat slightly at the tone Oliver was using. It was darker, almost like the deep growl that he used when he was transitioning into the vigilante.

 

“Because only a good man would have done what you did for a kid he barely knew, for a girl that, according to most, is so far outclassed by you that you shouldn’t even know she exists.”

 

“I don’t outclass you. If anything, you outclass me. You are by far the most intelligent person I have ever met.”

 

“Oliver, look at our society. Beauty and brawn are considered to be far more important than intelligence, even ignoring the fact that you grew up in Queen Mansion, Starling City, and I grew up in a three bedroom house in a little town in northern California.”

 

“It doesn’t mean we can’t be friends,” Felicity,” Oliver pointed out, “My family and those they associate with, they aren’t the ones who rule my life. I am free to make my own choices as to who my friends are, and you and Diggle are right at the top of that list.”

 

Felicity swallowed, knowing that, up until a couple of months ago, Tommy had been Oliver’s best friend, and would have been at the very top of Oliver’s figurative friend speech. Now he was dead, and, like her, Oliver had lost his childhood best friend, never to see them, or hear the sound of their voice again.

 

“See,” Felicity smiled after a pause, “you are a good man.”

 

Oliver’s eyes narrowed slightly, “no, I’m not.” He argued.

 

“Why do you think you’re not a good man?” Felicity protested.

 

“Because, despite everything that’s happened, To Sara and to Laurel and to Tommy, I continue to put people in danger by spending time with them. It’s only going to be a matter of time before you or Diggle get hurt because of your work with me, and then I’ll have your blood on my hands too. I shouldn’t let people get close to me; it only puts them in danger. It only makes them a target for my enemies.”

 

Felicity felt herself crumble at Oliver’s words, seeing the fear over something happening to her and Diggle on his face. She reached out, resting a hand gently on his shoulder, before she carefully stepped closer, moving slowly to avoid startling Oliver, as if he were a wild animal, like a wolf.

 

Felicity grinned inwardly at the idea of a werewolf Oliver, but she pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the man in front of her, the cracks in his facade wide open for her to see. Once she was close enough, Felicity rested her head over Oliver’s heart, her arms wrapping around him in a tight hug. Beneath her, she felt Oliver tense, before he slowly began to relax.

 

“My mom always used to say that hugs could fix any wound. Physical, mental, emotional, it doesn’t matter. They always make you feel better,” Felicity told Oliver calmly as Oliver breathed deeply, his arms encircling around her back and hugging her back.

 

“Your mom was a smart person; you must have inherited her mind.”

 

“She was better with people than I ever could be,” Felicity disagreed, remembering how many friends her mother had, and how she’d loved spending time talking to them. Felicity was quieter and more introverted, happiest when she was alone or with small groups of people.

 

“I think you’re better with people than you think,” Oliver said, and Felicity felt her cheeks go red again as she looked up at Oliver, who was looking down at Felicity with a grim smile on his face.

 

“I...I care about you, Felicity, more than you ever know, but I can’ let myself act on it, it’s too risky. If I lost you I don’t know what I would do. Do you understand?”  


Felicity’s heart leaped into her throat, and she forcibly swallowed it back down. She’d understood Oliver perfectly. He cared about her, maybe even loved her, but he wouldn’t act on it because of the risk involved. Felicity suddenly thought of how Stiles had looked in his hospital bed, that first night after he was admitted, so close to death, but still clinging onto life. She thought of Laura, lying on the forest floor, killed by her uncle’s hand, she thought of Tommy, impaled and dying in Oliver’s arms, she thought of Sara Lance, sucked into the swirling water of the North China Sea as the Queen’s Gambit sank.

 

She thought of Laura and Derek’s family trapped in the basement while the rest of the house burned around them, slowly suffocating to death. She thought of her own mother, dying in a hospital bed with only her seven year old son at her bedside, holding her hand as the disease that had ravaged her body took her into death’s arms. She thought of Oliver, trapped on the Island for five years, torn from the city and the life he had grown up in, forced to change in order to survive.

 

“Yes,” she told Oliver, “I understand. The thing is, I care about you to, and if something happened to you I would literally go out of my freaking mind. Life is fragile and short, and you can’t protect me from anything. I could get into a car accident on my way home tonight, or I could get cancer like my mom did. I could get killed by someone who we haven’t even heard of. We’re never going to completely wipe out all of the criminals in Starling City. We might lower the numbers a bit, but we’ll never get them all.”

 

Oliver’s grip tightened on Felicity as she spoke, as if, by hugging her tighter, it would protect her from any of the things she mentioned from happening, even though he couldn’t.

 

“The way I see it,” Felicity continued, despite the grip Oliver had on her, “you only live once, and what’s the point of living if you’re scared of what might happen. A life lived in fear is a life half-lived, and all that.”

 

Felicity broke off, even though she wasn’t entirely done on her tirade, because Oliver’s lips were on her own, and they were kissing.

 

She, Felicity Megan Smoak, was kissing Oliver Queen. Unable to stop herself, Felicity kissed back, feeling Oliver’s tongue brush her lips as it entered her mouth. She moved her right hand, from between Oliver’s shoulders to the back of his head so she could grab his hair, still damp with sweat.

 

Once they broke apart Felicity took a moment to get her breathing back to normal, Oliver resting his forehead against her own.

 

“Well, that was a new way to stop me from babbling. I have to say, I like it.” Felicity said once she’d regained her breath, and Oliver laughed, brushing a strand Of Felicity’s hair back behind her ear as Felicity looked up at him through her glasses.

 

Oliver kissed the tip of her nose with a affectionate smile “You’re remarkable, Felicity Smoak”

 

“Thank-you for remarking on it, Oliver Queen.” Felicity replied with a smile to match, before she tilted her head up and kissed Oliver, this time taking her turn to initiate the kiss.

 

Neither of the pair noticed Diggle disappearing back up the stairs that lead into Verdant, having witnessed almost the entire exchange, a broad smile plastered across his face.

 

TW/A

 

“Scott! Scott! Scott! Scott!” Stiles yelled as he threw himself out of the jeep and bolted across the cleared area at the front of the rebuilt Hale house, almost throwing himself into Scott’s arms where the other teenager stood.

 

“What?” Scott asked in confusion, the rest of the pack looking on as Stiles almost danced around Scott, his scent filled with excitement and happiness.

 

“Dude, so picked it. Felicity and Oliver are together, like, officially.” Stiles told Scott, almost jumping up and down in excitement. Felicity had told him and their dad about the relationship, via Skype, less than an hour ago, and Stiles was ecstatic. Oliver would be good for Felicity, and Stiles had seen how much the man had been devoted to his sister. Stiles knew Felicity needed someone who cared that much for her in her life.

 

“What?” Scott, Lydia and Jackson exclaimed all at the same time.

 

“I know, right? How long has it been since Felicity has had a boyfriend in her life?’

 

Scott frowned and shrugged, “I don’t know, you haven’t mentioned any since the guy you kicked in the balls.”

 

“Oh my God...imagine me having to do that to Oliver freaking Queen!” Stiles said, terror replacing the excitement on his face, “He’d kick my ass...you might need to do it, or maybe Derek...or the entire pack”

 

“Yes please,” Erica said dreamily, and Isaac, Jackson and Boyd all shot scathing looks at the blonde.

 

“What...its Oliver freaking Queen,” Erica defended, “have you seen his abs, or hell, his ass? I would kick him in the nuts just so I could say that I touched him there.”

 

“You’re not allowed to touch him unless he hurts my sister, Erica,” Stiles scolded, trying and failing, to get the idea of Oliver Queen’s bum out of his head. Yeah, it was good, but Stiles thought that Derek’s abs and bum were better.

 

Not that he would ever say that in front of the pack.

 

“Stiles, dude, snap out of it,” Scott waved his hand in front of Stiles face, and Stiles shook his head, obviously having zoned out on Scott and the rest of the pack.

 

“Sorry, I forgot to take my Adderal today; I’ll take it when I get inside.”

 

“Oh God, that means we have to put up with you without the drugs until they kick in?” Jackson whined, and Lydia slapped him in the arm.

 

“Shut up, Jackson,” Erica glared, “Don’t pick on my Batman, or I’ll leave you two alone.”

 

“One of them would end up dead,” Lydia pointed out.

 

“I’m not sure which one it would be though, Stiles or Jackson,” Danny teased, and Scott snorted loudly as Jackson glared at Danny, while Stiles glared at Jackson

 

“Of course it would be me, obviously.” He told the rest of the group as Derek rolled his eyes. Stiles knew that Derek was regretting building his pack out of teenagers, but it had been his own fault. He hadn’t needed to choose Erica, Boyd and Isaac (although their lives had almost certainly gotten better since they’d been bitten, ignoring the danger they would now be in for the rest of their lives).

 

“I thought you all wanted to christen the new den?” Derek asked eventually, obviously over the sound of the pack’s bickering. The slightest hint of red in Derek’s eye told the teenagers that he meant business, so they all headed into the house, Scott and Stiles grabbing Stiles’ pillow and bag from the jeep.

 

It was the last week of summer holidays for the pack, so Derek had offered the new house as the location for a pack bonding session to mark the end of the school holidays. It wasn’t the first time they’d had a pack night, but it was the first time they’d been able to do it at the rebuilt Hale house. The previous times had always been at Lydia, Jackson or Scott’s houses.

 

Stiles followed Scott into the house, his pillow in his arms, and smiled, loving how safe he felt within the walls. Every single one of them had been involved in its construction, and it felt like it belonged to the whole pack, and not just Derek. It might only have Derek’s name on the paperwork, but it had been designed with the pack in mind, somewhere where they could train, plan, relax and spend time together. Stepping into the den, Stiles’ smile only grew. Lydia had been put in charge in the decorating, although Derek had kept an eye on her at first to make sure she didn’t go overboard. Lydia, though, had proved herself to be very good at it. The furniture and decorations were all simple, practical but yet they still looked good. It suited all of the pack, even though individually they were all so different.

 

Somebody had pushed all the furniture back, like they had the last night they’d all been in Starling City together, to make room for mattresses and blankets. Stiles dropped his pillow on a mattress, and sat down on it, going slow to avoid pulling on his barely healed injuries. Scott three him his adderal bottle, and Stiles took his prescribed dose, swallowing it dry before he threw the bottle back, thankful that he was finally off all of his painkillers.

 

“The notebook,” Lydia announced, holding the DVD case up and walking towards the TV that the pack had pushed Derek into buying, and Jackson groaned, flopping back onto another mattress, his arms over his eyes,

 

“Not again,”

 

“You love me,” Lydia shrugged, putting the movie on, before she snuggled down beside Jackson.

 

Outside rain began to fall, pattering against the roof of the house, as Erica and Boyd brought in some bowls of popcorn, before joining the rest of the pack on the mattresses, Erica’s head lying on Boyd’s chest. Scott, having run Stiles’ bag up to his room, dropped carefully down beside Stiles, and Isaac curled into Stiles’ other side. Danny leaned up against the couch, with Jackson’s head and Erica’s foot on his lap. Stiles blinked, watching the movie as it started playing on the screen.

 

“Come on, Sour wolf, the puppies are never going to settle if you never join in on the puppy pile,” he said without even looking at Derek, knowing the haunted look that would be on Derek’s face as the older man tried to resist the temptation, and his inner wolf’s desire, to join his pack.

 

Stiles didn’t hear Derek move, but he felt the mattress on Isaac’s other side as Derek sat down, Isaac shifting so that his head was in Derek’s lap. Derek hands rested on the mattress beside him, close to where stiles was lying, and he reached out and impulsively took on in his own hand, biting his lip anxiously when Derek stiffened and looked at their joined hands before his gaze trailed up Stiles’ arm to his face.

 

Looking up at Derek, Stiles gave a small smile and began sheepishly letting go of Derek’s hand. He stopped, however, when Derek’s grip on his hand tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough that Stiles felt the change, and then Stiles saw the barest hint of a smile on Derek’s face, before he tore his eyes away from Stiles, looking instead at the TV screen.

 

Stiles glanced at their still entwined hands, and beamed, before he settled down into his pillow.

 

Before he left Beacon Hills, he would never have guessed that, by the end of summer, the pack’s dynamics would have changed so much. Six months ago they all barely knew each other, and rarely even spoke to one another. Three months ago, the pack mostly didn’t like each other and certainly didn’t trust one another. Now, they were cuddling up together and having pack movie nights in a house that they’d worked together to help build.

 

They were a pack, a family, united not by blood but by choice, love, friendship and the desire to protect one another.

 

Ned Stark didn’t get a lot right, and Stiles thought that he stunk at politics, but Stiles knew he got one thing right.

 

When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here our story ends. Keep an eye out for a one shot i'm planning to write, which will take place about two years after this. Thank-you to everyone who has left kudos or a comment. Your feedback and encouragement has been very inspiring. I hope you've all enjoyed the story.
> 
> Till Next time
> 
> Rivan Warrioress


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